Steam & Sorcery

By Cindy Spencer Pape

Sir Merrick Hadrian hunts monsters, both human and supernatural. A Knight of the Order of the Round Table, his use of magick and the technologies of steam power have made him both respected and feared. But his considerable skills are useless in the face of his greatest challenge, guardianship of five unusual children. At a loss, Merrick enlists the aid of a governess.

Miss Caroline Bristol is reluctant to work for a bachelor but she needs a position, and these former street children touch her heart. While she tends to break any mechanical device she touches, it never occurs to her that she might be something more than human. All she knows is that Merrick is the most dangerously attractive man she’s ever met—and out of reach for a mere governess.

When conspiracy threatens to blur the distinction between humans and monsters, Caroline and Merrick must join forces, and the fate of humanity hinges upon their combined skills of steam and sorcery…

Dear Reader,

A new year always brings with it a sense of expectation and promise (and maybe a vague sense of guilt). Expectation because we don’t know what the year will bring exactly, but promise because we always hope it will be good things. The guilt is due to all of the New Year’s resolutions we make with such good intentions.

This year, Carina Press is making a New Year’s resolution we know we won’t have any reason to feel guilty about: we’re going to bring our readers a year of fantastic editorial and diverse genre content. So far, our plans for 2011 include staff and author appearances at reader-focused conferences such as the RT Booklovers Convention in April, where we’ll be offering up goodies, appearing on panels, giving workshops and hosting a few fun activities for readers. We’re also cooking up several genre-specific release weeks, during which we’ll highlight individual genres. So far we have plans for steampunk week and unusual fantasy week. Readers will have access to free reads, discounts, contests and more as part of our week-long promotions!

But even when we’re not doing special promotions, we’re still offering something special to our readers in the form of the stories authors are delivering to Carina Press that we’re passing on to you. From sweet romance to sexy, and military science fiction to fairy-tale fantasy, from mysteries to romantic suspense, we’re proud to be offering a wide variety of genres and tales of escapism to our customers in this new year. Every week is a new adventure, and we want to bring our readers along on the journey. Be daring, be brave and try something new with Carina Press in 2011!

We love to hear from readers, and you can email us your thoughts, comments and questions to generalinquiries@carinapress.com. You can also interact with Carina Press staff and authors on our blog, Twitter stream and Facebook fan page.

Happy reading!

~Angela James

Executive Editor, Carina Press

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Please visit http://www.Demonoid.me for more books from our generous members.

Baileyd

Acknowledgements

Thanks to the FF&P chapter of RWA for helping steampunk romance become a viable genre. To Sarah, Christian, Steven, Steve, Mary Beth, Richard and Anny for their help both in critiques and in keeping my Victoriana straight. To my editor and the powers that be at Carina for encouraging me to mix my love for historical romance with the fun of the paranormal. Finally, of course, to Glenn, who not only listens to me whine but also came up with the idea of the Order, which made the whole book come together.

Contents

Copyright

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Epilogue

About the Author

Chapter One

Mayfair, London, February 1851

“We live in an age where people can travel on ships that fly through the air.” The sharp rap of an umbrella point on the wooden floor of the carriage punctuated the sentence. “Where a machine can calculate the distance between the stars in less time than it takes you to tie your cravat. I fail to comprehend why, in such an otherwise enlightened era, your ridiculously hidebound Order of the Round Table should refuse to admit female Knights.”

“You answered your own question, aunt, when you said the words ‘ridiculously hidebound.’” Sir Merrick Hadrian smiled across the coach at his aunt Dorothy, the woman who had more or less raised him since his mother’s death when he was six, despite the fact that she was only eight years his senior. This argument was as old and comfortable as his favorite walking boots. “I am in complete agreement with you that the Order of the Round Table is a stodgy and backward organization, so arguing with me is pointless.”

“Then do something about it.” There was another thump from the umbrella.

“I am merely a foot soldier, aunt. I assure you, my opinion is well known among my superiors.” And it was one of the reasons Merrick hadn’t advanced into the inner circle of the Knights’ leadership. Not that he minded. He was still young and hale enough to prefer fieldwork.

“Yes, but as those fuddy-duddies die off and retire, you will gain power. I want you to promise me you’ll work to open the doors. Mathematics, the sciences, engineering—all these professions are slowly proving that women can and do make valid contributions. Law and medicine cannot be far behind.”

Merrick idly wondered if Dorothy had a shrine in her room to Ada, Lady Lovelace, whose work with Lord Babbage on his analytical engine had both changed the world technologically, and proven beyond doubt that women were the intellectual equals of men.

“You know very well, nephew, I was born with just as much innate ability as some of those striplings we met at the MacKays’ ball last evening.”

“In deductive reasoning, as well as in magickal power.” It was easy to agree with her as she was right. Sir William MacKay was Merrick’s friend and mentor, but Merrick hadn’t been at all impressed by Sir William’s latest recruits to the Order. “Hell, probably even in swordplay.”

Dorothy grinned back at him, her brown eyes, a mirror image of his own, lighting in affection. “Good lad.” She patted him on the cheek as if he wasn’t thirty-five years old, just as the carriage rolled to a halt in front of her favorite ladies’ lending library.

Merrick leapt out of the coach to help her down. Not that she needed it, of course, but manners were still manners, after all. The cold snap they’d been enduring had left small patches of ice on the road, and he made sure his footing was solid before he held out his hand for Dorothy to alight.

Once on the pavement, his aunt leaned up to kiss his cheek. “Thank you for the lift, dear. I’ll see you at four.”

Before Merrick could reply, he heard the sound of scurrying footsteps, then a little shriek just before someone slammed into his shoulder. He let go of his aunt and spun to catch the woman who slipped about in thin-soled boots. A strange jolt ran up from the point where his gloved hand clamped down on her arm, through a threadbare woolen coat. Magick?

“Caroline, dear, are you all right?” Dorothy moved around Merrick to help right the younger woman. Since Dorothy was tall and sturdily built, the petite, bespectacled blonde was rather dwarfed between Merrick and his aunt.

“I’m fine, Miss Hadrian, thank you. I was just afraid I was running late.” Her breath misted as the girl gasped. “Mrs. Wemberly needed me to run some errands on the way here.”

“Thereby reducing your half-day by an hour or more. Wretched woman.” Dorothy shook her head. “There ought to be laws about that sort of thing.”

“It’s fine.” The voice was sweetly feminine and her face was young and pretty. Behind her silver-rimmed spectacles, her eyes were a vibrant green. The tendril of hair that had escaped from the ugly gray bonnet was fine and golden-blond. The faintest scent of lavender and rose petal soap wafted up from her smooth skin as she looked at him.

Merrick shook himself mentally. He had no business being attracted to one of Dorothy’s bluestocking friends. He wasn’t ready to settle down and marry, and this girl didn’t look like the kind for dalliance.

“Merrick, I’d like you to meet Miss Caroline Bristol. Caroline, this is my nephew, Sir Merrick Hadrian.” Dorothy’s introduction cut through his daze.

He took the lady’s hand and bowed politely. “Delighted, Miss Bristol.”

“Likewise, Sir Merrick.” She bobbed in a brief hint of a curtsey.

“Well, we must get inside or the reading circle will begin without us.” Dorothy beamed at the younger woman. “Merrick, I think we can give Miss Bristol a ride home at four, don’t you? Those boots of hers look soaked through.”

“Of course, aunt.” He took both ladies’ arms, escorted them up the marble steps to the library, and then he tipped his hat and waited until they’d gone in before climbing back into his carriage.

As his coachman drove along the rutted London road Merrick couldn’t stop thinking about the young woman he’d just met. Had the jolt he felt been mere attraction? Or had there been genuine magick at work? He wasn’t sure which idea was more disturbing.

Wapping, London, two months later

The pungent reek of rotting food, polluted water and human waste filled Merrick’s flared nostrils as his black-clad form slipped through the murky darkness. Though keen senses were part of his birthright as a Knight, and had saved his life on more than one occasion, he spared a moment to regret that the rising fog only served to intensify the stench.

The Wapping alleyway boasted none of the gas lamps of his Mayfair neighborhood, and even the gleaming three-quarters moon failed to penetrate the damp, sooty night in this part of London. His vision was restricted to little more than an arm’s length in the close confines of the alley, where morning sun probably never reached to disperse the chill night dew that clung to his clothes.

Still, Merrick soldiered on. The soft leather soles of his boots made no sound as he crept toward the corner where his informant had agreed to meet him. If it meant saving even one of the missing girls, then it was worth walking through this slum at midnight, even if he would have to burn every stitch of his clothing once he got home. Behind Mrs. Miller’s teashop, the note had said. Merrick fingered the coins in one pocket and the pistol in his other. Friend or foe, he was ready for whichever awaited him.

“Oy, guv.” The husky voice was female, and Merrick turned toward it, immediately overwhelmed by the fetid miasma of opium, disease and cheap perfume. “Care for a bit of fun, then?”

“Not just now thanks.” He flipped one of the smaller, silver coins from his pocket. “But you can have this just for getting out of this alley for the rest of the night.”

“Don’t ’ave t’ tell me twice.” With a movement that was surprisingly quick for an addict, the doxy snatched the coin and ran back the way Merrick had come.

He’d checked the front of the street first and knew the seedy teashop was just one more building down, next to the laundry the prostitute had been leaning against. Coal smoke and steam belched from the lower level of the laundry, rumbling with the clanks and groans of machinery. Merrick was momentarily surprised that such a poor neighborhood should boast automated washing and drying machines, but he didn’t allow himself to linger over the thought.

He couldn’t make out anyone waiting, but his ears twitched as he detected a faint shuffling sound. Rats, maybe, or perhaps vermin of the two-legged kind. Keeping close to the building so he couldn’t be surrounded, he crept slowly forward.

“That you, milord?” This time, the rough scratchy voice was male, but not familiar. The Cockney accent was thick, but not quite thick enough for a denizen of the East End.

“Depends on who’s asking.” Merrick eased forward a few more steps. Though a baronet wasn’t technically a lord, he wasn’t about to argue with his informant over his title.

“I ’eard ye might be willing to ’and over some money,” the voice said. “In exchange for some information.”

“I might.” Merrick slipped his pistol out of his pocket and took another step toward the voice, until he finally was able to make out a dark shadow leaning against the back door of the teashop.

“Well, then I might know somet’in’ about who’s taking these young girls.” The other man stood to his full height as Merrick approached, which was significantly less than Merrick’s six foot two inches. The more the man talked, the more the accent slipped. An upper servant or middle-class tradesman, most likely, who’d picked Wapping as a meeting ground to mask any clue as to his identity—or to avoid detection from those he was selling out.

“There’s money, if the information is sound.” Merrick trained his revolver on the man’s chest. “Do you know where the girls are?” At least ten shop girls had gone missing from this part of London in the past two weeks—maybe more.

“There’s a warehouse—” The man looked around somewhat frantically. “Did you hear that?”

Merrick shook his head. All he’d sensed were rats. “There’s no one here.” He handed the man one gold sovereign. “There are more of those, if you keep talking.”

“He’s keeping them in a warehouse, a big one what’s supposed t’ be vacant, down by the docks.” The man spoke in a rush, still looking around. “Name on the door says ‘Benson and Sons.’ On Friday, they’re to sail. Budapest, or Calcutta, or some such place where men will pay a load of cash for an English miss.”

“Who’s he?” Merrick handed the man another sovereign. It didn’t sound right, but Friday was tomorrow. He didn’t have time to waste worrying about the unlikelihood of what his informant was saying. The poor existed in every country—no place he knew of needed to import its prostitutes.

“I can’t tell you that, milord. He’ll kill me as it is, he finds out—”

Before the man could continue speaking, two incorporeal shadows slipped out of the fog. The stench of death hit Merrick full in the nostrils as one of the shapes coalesced and yanked the smaller man from his side. Another figure solidified in front of Merrick, looming well above his taller-than-average height.

Vampyres!

There was no time for Merrick to call up a spell to hold back the monsters. The vile, bloodsucking fiends were among the few creatures able to sneak up on a Knight. They fed off the blood of humans, and rumor held that they could create more of their kind just with a bite. Thankfully, they generally avoided each other and there was rarely more than one in any given area. Tonight, though, proved the exception to the rule. Had there only been one, Merrick could have handled it easily enough, but two would be taxing his abilities. His stomach roiled against the stench, but he controlled it. Dropping his pistol, he yanked his sword-stick out of his belt and spun on the one attacking him. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the other, smaller creature rip out the informant’s throat with one swipe of its foul claws.

Damn, so much for further information from that source.

His swordstick wasn’t steel. At the click of a button on the handle, the case fell away, exposing a gleaming length of kiln-hardened ebony. The edge wasn’t sharp, but the point would pierce as well as the best epee. For some reason, organic materials like wood worked better on vampyres than metal, though Order scientists had never figured out why. Merrick used the side of the stake to parry a strike from the monster’s filthy talons, then stabbed into the creature’s chest. It kept moving, meaning he’d missed the heart, just as he saw the other vampyre lunge toward him.

“Shite!” Merrick was in trouble and he knew it. He kicked the first fiend in the chest, sending it reeling backward against a building, just in time for him to stab the shorter one in the throat. Foul black blood sprayed out, but it was just a flesh wound for one of the undead. Merrick struck again, this time piercing its chest, the tempered wood sliding easily between its ribs.

The bigger vampyre moved closer again, but just before it struck, another shape barreled out of the darkness and sent it flying across the alley. The thud of the creature striking the building on the far side of the alley rang in Merrick’s ears, along with the clatter of footsteps. He couldn’t see what had attacked, but right now he was damned glad it had.

“Good boy, George,” a lilting female voice called. “Hold.”

Merrick pulled his weapon from the smaller vampyre, and sent a hard kick right to the monster’s groin. Human or not, that always hurt. While the creature was caught off guard, another figure appeared behind it, slicing at its neck with what looked like an old cavalry saber, except that it glittered silver, even in the almost nonexistent light. More blood sprayed, and when the vampyre turned its head to see the new threat, Merrick skewered it again, this time finding its moldering black heart. The fiend collapsed in a heap, then began to slowly dissolve to ash.

It had been an old one, Merrick noted. Once they were destroyed, vampyres only decayed as much as their corpse would have if left to decompose naturally from the moment of death. A freshly turned revenant left a perfectly intact body. This one had been hunting for decades or more to disintegrate so completely.

He moved across the alley to the other one, just in time to see the glint of another silvery blade as it slashed down, severing the monster’s head from its neck. Thick, inky blood fountained before the head rolled across the alley, beginning to rot. This was a newer undead—it didn’t turn to dust, just dissolved into putrid, malodorous flesh.

“Be’eading kills them as well as a stick.” That same feminine voice spoke in the local cant, and Merrick realized this combatant was a young woman—probably not more than a girl. Merrick caught a glimpse of copper hair gleaming from under her cap as she straightened, her hand resting on the head of a large canine automaton.

“I’m aware of that, but a man can’t walk about London with a machete strapped to his waist.” Nodding to his other rescuers, he realized, somewhat to his chagrin, he’d been saved by a band of children. In addition to the girl, there were two youths—one in his middle teens, and the other much younger. Two more children—in between the two boys in age, or size at any rate—stood with lanterns at either end of the alleyway. “Besides, I didn’t expect vampyres to be involved in tonight’s exercises—merely monsters of the human kind.”

“We’ve never seen two together before.” The older boy began to rifle the clothing left behind by the creature that had turned to dust.

“They rarely work in groups, especially in conjunction with humans.” Holding his breath, Merrick began to search the pockets of the rotting corpse of the younger vampyre. Nothing. Not a single clue to indicate if someone had sent the pair or whether this was just a team of rogues looking for a meal. He looked over at the boy rifling through the dusty clothes of the elder. “You’re welcome to whatever money he has, but can you tell me if you find anything indicating the whereabouts of a warehouse?”

“I know the place,” said the younger lad. “I ’eard what the other cove said. We can take you there, guv.”

The older boy nodded. “You need us, sir. Can’t go up against vamps on yer own now. Not if they’re workin’ together, and if they’ve got the girls ’eld pris’ner.”

“Can one of you show me the way while another runs to the watch house for help?” He had friends at Scotland Yard, and there was no way he was taking a pack of children into this mess.

The girl moved over and spoke up. “Some of the missing shop girls are our friends. Piers and Nell will go for the coppers. The rest of us go with you to get Penny and Suze away.”

He looked at each of them with his Order-trained senses open and came to a startling realization. The oldest boy was a Knight, just like Merrick. Untrained, yes, but the Order’s signature magickal energy fairly radiated from the lad. The younger boy had power as well, of some different kind, something Merrick couldn’t identify. Even the girl gave off a whiff of the supernatural. No wonder this batch of urchins had banded together to protect their home turf. They were all bloody gifted. He hated to involve youngsters in something like this, but even a young, untrained Knight was better help than most ordinary humans would be.

The girl had begun searching his unfortunate informant. Merrick watched without speaking as she retrieved his coins, along with another small purse. He didn’t ask for the coins back. The children needed them more than he, and certainly more than a dead man. With a sigh of regret, Merrick stepped over and stabbed the man through the heart with his ebony sword. While not all victims of the undead rose again in vampyric form, some did, and even the Order wasn’t sure of exactly what variables made the difference. It wouldn’t do to have another vampyre emerge from this mess.

Now there was more work to be done. Much as he wanted to stop and talk to the lad about his latent magickal ability, it would have to wait. Two days earlier, he’d been assigned to find the missing shop girls, at least ten of them, and he had to make them his first priority.

He paused just a moment though, to cast a quick spell over the area, destroying the vampyric remains before nodding to the children. “Let’s go then.” The human body he left for the watch.

Vampyres and other creatures of the night were more real than most upper-class people chose to believe. The residents of slums like Wapping, however, didn’t have that luxury. This was where the monsters hunted, where defenses were minimal and humans crowded together, too poor to be armed, too weak to fight back and often even sleeping out on the street, making for easy targets. While Merrick was specifically trained to fight the creatures, even in his experience, something was very strange about the events of this night.

The dockside warehouse district was only a few blocks from the alley behind the teashop. Following the children, Merrick crept along in the dark, dank byways, avoiding the occasional encounter with drunks, whores or pickpockets—other than the pickpockets he was with, of course. He had no delusions about how this motley group of urchins eked out a living. The two boys, in particular, moved like living shadows, barely visible to the human eye as they darted from alley to doorway to street corner. If they weren’t pickpockets, they were wasting their talents.

Even the mechanical dog was uncannily silent, and since clockwork pets were all the rage in high society, Merrick had seen more than a few clanking canines, though pugs and Pekinese were more common than mastiffs. As a Knight of the Round Table, Merrick was able to move as quietly and swiftly as the urchins, however. He caught one of the boys cocking an eyebrow at the other and shooting a surprised glance at Merrick. They were probably astonished that such an old man—thirty-five had to seem positively ancient to these youngsters—could manage to keep up.

As they reached the docks, their movement slowed. This area was even more dangerous than the alley and warranted caution. Fog rolled up off the murky water of the basin, yellow with waste and other contaminants dumped by the hundreds of ships per month moving in and out of the crowded, confined inlet. A sickly trickle of moonlight penetrated the fog and cloud cover here away from the tightly packed buildings, but it wasn’t enough for even Merrick to see clearly.

They rounded a warehouse that was gaslit from within. The building hummed with the sounds of mechanized loading and stacking equipment and it belched vast columns of coal smoke and steam. Not their target, then, but as they crept toward the far side, the younger boy pointed to the next building.

Ah. This warehouse was a ramshackle timbered affair with broken panes in several of the windows scattered below the sagging roofline. Probably a casualty of the last decade’s technology boom, this simple, non-automated storage facility had clearly been vacant for some time. No lights burned from inside, though it would have been hard to tell, as the only two windows near ground level had both been boarded over. There was a name painted on the building’s side in peeling letters, but Merrick could only make out the letter B. Hopefully, it stood for Benson and Sons.

“That’s it, guv,” the girl whispered. Her accent wasn’t as thick as the boys’. “Been empty as long as I can remember.”

Merrick studied the other building. “Wait here. I’m going to go investigate. If the police arrive, ask them to wait for a signal—we don’t want to put the prisoners at risk if they’re being held hostage inside.”

“Reckon I’m going with you.” The older boy gave a firm nod. “Might be more vamps in there.”

“Two of the missing girls are from our street,” the girl added. “That’s why we’d taken to watching things at night—to make sure no more of our friends went missing.”

Yes, he’d been right. There was something about her speech that didn’t quite add up—when she was talking fast, she dropped the street cant that identified her as an East Ender. Unfortunately, Merrick didn’t have time right now to wonder why an educated girl now lived on the streets of Wapping. Instead he shrugged, unwilling to waste time arguing.

He glanced at the younger boy. “You wait for the others, understand? Someone’s got to clue in the police. Give them my name. Sir Merrick Hadrian. It should make them stop and listen, at least for a moment.”

“Aye, sir.” The lad gave him a crisp salute and a sly grin. “Jamie McCann at your service, Cap’n.”

“Good chap, McCann.” Merrick saluted back. Major would have been a better estimation of his rank among the Order, had that organization used military designations, but he’d settle for captain at the moment. He turned to the others. “Stick to the shadows and don’t start anything, understood?”

“Aye,” they both confirmed, though he wasn’t sure he believed them.

“Again, my name is Merrick, if you need to call for me. What are yours?”

“He’s Tommy. I’m Wink.” The girl patted the clockwork hound. “And this is George.”

Merrick held out his hand and shook each of theirs gravely, including Wink’s, though he settled for patting George on the head. “Onward, then. But be careful.”

“Al’ays are,” Tommy whispered back as they crept across the open dockyard toward the other warehouse.

No shouts of alarm interrupted their passage, so they reached their target, presumably undetected. Now to find a way in. The only thing that might have been a door on this side of the building was boarded up along with the windows, so Merrick sent his two henchmen around toward the street while he took the wharf side—in his estimate a more likely location. If someone was using the building as a base for clandestine operations, they’d shield their activities as much as possible from the street.

When he rounded the corner, he paused to listen, his ear pressed up against the side of the warehouse. Tuning out the slapping of the basin’s waves on the pier and the drone of an airship overhead, he focused his hearing into the building. The scuttling sound he detected might have been rats, but after a moment, a female voice cried out and was immediately shushed by another. A male barked some sort of command and the female voices stopped. The words were unclear—they weren’t directly on the other side of the wall, but close enough. He’d have to be very careful going in.

A few more steps led him to an entrance—the enormous barn-style door that would be used for loading and unloading containers onto ships. If the oversized hinges hadn’t rusted shut, the noise from opening even one side of it would rouse half of London. But sometimes… Merrick checked. Sure enough, there was a man-sized door set into one corner of the larger panel—and those hinges had been recently oiled. Slipping a slender steel lock pick from his pocket, he had the latch open by the time the two children had circled around to meet him.

“There’s someone inside,” the boy—Tommy—noted. “That corner.” He pointed toward the far wharf-side point of the building, the corner the children had just rounded. That tallied nicely with Merrick’s observations and he nodded.

“I’m going to slip in first,” he whispered.

“I’m smaller,” Tommy argued.

“Ah, but can you do this?” Merrick muttered a spell under his breath that he knew would render him nearly invisible to the untrained eye. He was still there, but to the children, it would seem as though he was little more than a blurred shadow.

“Cor.” Wink gasped.

“’Ow’d you do that?” Tommy squared his shoulders and his jaw and looked directly into Merrick’s eyes, even through the obscuring spell. Damn, the lad was talented. “Right, then. We’ll wait ’ere for a signal.”

“If you hear a whistle, slip in as quietly as possible. If you hear a fight, use your judgment.” Merrick eased his sword-stick from its sheath. “If it doesn’t look like you can help, then run.”

They both agreed before slipping back into the shadows as Merrick eased the door open.

Not a flicker of movement disturbed the yawning black cavern of the warehouse. Empty but for the shattered remains of a few old shipping cartons, the interior smelled of mildew and dust, as well as the polluted water from outside. Merrick’s eyes quickly adjusted to the new level of darkness, enough to assure him that there was no being—living or otherwise—in the main portion of the building. There was, however, a small area partitioned off—presumably an office—in the far wharf-side corner of the space. The wooden door was closed, and any glass allowing a view out into the warehouse had been covered over with something. Merrick glided closer on his soft-soled boots and touched the substance lightly with a fingertip. Tar paper—a good choice for blocking out light. Pausing beside the door, he listened again, this time able to pick out the individual voices.

“I said, not until tomorrow night.” The voice was low, male and angry, as well as upper-class.

“If Marcus and Frank don’t make it back…” This was a subordinate, fearful and whining just a tad. The accent was working-class, and the pitch a bit higher.

“They will.” The third voice was deeper than the first, with a resonance that made the hairs on Merrick’s neck stand up. Vampyre. “Though I agree with Mr. Butcher. Moving the girls tonight would be wiser. If you have one traitor in your midst, there may be more.”

“The auction is tomorrow.” The leader’s firm tone never wavered. Whoever he was, he wasn’t afraid of the vampyre. Fool. “Now, if you gentlemen think you can handle a bunch of tied-up women until the others return, I’ll be getting along. I need to reappear at my wife’s soiree and make her think I’ve been there all along.”

Perfect. Merrick faded back away from the office area. Footsteps sounded, and then the door was opened and shut. He waited until the man had nearly reached the outer door before he slid out of the shadows and caught him, one arm around his neck in a choke hold, the other bringing a small pistol up to the side of the slaver’s head.

“No further. Not if you want to live,” he whispered in the man’s ear. “Your vampyre friend may come out at the sound of a shot, but you’ll already be dead.”

The man jerked his chin in a sharp nod to indicate that he’d heard. Merrick then marched him toward the door and gave a soft whistle. When Tommy opened the door, Merrick shoved his captive outside. Wink darted off to find rope while Merrick and Tommy hauled the man into a sliver of moonlight near the wharf.

“Lord Haverston,” Merrick noted with disgust. “Why? You have all the money you could ever need.”

The thinner, balding man in evening clothes sneered. “Hadrian. I should have suspected someone of your caliber would be crass enough to work with the police. To think, Her Majesty herself received you at a garden party.”

Merrick shrugged, his pistol not wavering from Haverston’s forehead as Wink returned and she and Tommy set to trussing the man up. “I’m not so low as to work with vampyres and human traffickers.”

Once their prisoner was secured and gagged, they dragged him over to where Jamie waited and left that lad watching. He’d produced a wicked-looking knife from somewhere in his clothing, so Merrick had no doubt Haverston would think twice before attempting an escape. Then Merrick and the two older children returned to the abandoned building.

“One vampyre, one human I believe, but there could be more.” Merrick sketched out a plan that the children agreed to, before they all ducked into the warehouse, George the clockwork dog included. Tommy and Wink still had the weapons they’d used in the alley, and Merrick had his sword-stick out. Merrick cast his vanishing spell and stood to one side of the office door while Tommy took the other. Wink banged open the main warehouse door yelling, “Here, kitty, kitty. Come on, puss,” at the top of her lungs.

As Merrick had hoped, the door burst open. Two burly humans ducked out, leaving the door open behind them. There was no sign of the vampyre but Merrick didn’t have time to look into the room as he slammed his fist into the beefy midsection of the nearer thug. Caught unprepared, the bruiser stumbled, allowing Merrick to land his next punch to the man’s jaw just as he let out a bellow of rage. The bruiser went down hard and didn’t move. Meanwhile Tommy had apparently tripped the other, while George had bounded over and sat on the man’s back, pinning him to the ground.

Tommy stood beside the fallen thug, the tip of his sword poised at the man’s left ear. “Don’t move, ye bugger.”

The commotion had also brought out the rear guard. Three of the pallid undead drifted in mist form through the door. Only the fact that Merrick had been specifically watching for one allowed him to detect the slightly darker shadow in the dimness. As they began to coalesce, the rancid stench nearly made him retch.

“Three undead. Watch yourselves.” He called the warning at the same time he stabbed the first vampyre with his ebony stake, regrettably missing the heart. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Wink launch herself out of the darkness at the second creature just before the vampyre could take a swipe at Tommy with its claws. The third faded back into the darkness of the warehouse, dissolving into fog. Damn, there was no way to damage one in its gaseous state. He hoped to hell it had cut and run, and wasn’t going for help.

He’d seen these children fight in the alley. They could hold their own, though it went against the grain to let them. With one sharp kick to the side of the fallen human’s head, Merrick focused his attention on the vampyre he was fighting, ducking his shoulder to avoid a bite. The monster had moved in too close for an effective strike from the swordstick, so Merrick threw a kick at its knee, which made it stagger enough for Merrick to jump back. Before the fiend could recover, Merrick had skewered it through the heart.

The vampyre fell, flesh dripping from the skeleton as the corpse devolved into rot, and the two thugs on the floor began to retch. Good, that would keep them from getting in the way. In the background he heard the sound of multiple running footsteps, and he hoped to hell it was the police who’d arrived, not reinforcements for Haverston.

Before Merrick could move to help Tommy, the boy managed to slice one of the vampyre’s legs out from under him. When the creature fell, Wink was there, neatly severing its head from its neck. She stepped back, panting, and pointed at the open office door. “Any more inside?”

“No,” Merrick said after a brief look. His stomach lurched as he saw the women. Probably a dozen of them were each chained, ankles and wrist, to a pair of iron rails that had been fixed into the two exterior walls. One rail ran about six inches off the floor, the other at about two feet, allowing the women to sit on the floor, but not to stand or lie. Each captive had one hand free, presumably for eating and other bodily functions. Chamber pots in both corners were full and reeking.

“Penny! Suze!” Wink started to run to the girls, then halted as Tommy grabbed her arm.

“Coppers are here. Bye, guv.”

Merrick turned to look, just as both children and George disappeared into the shadowy corners of the cavernous warehouse. Figuring he owed them, he didn’t say a word, just turned to the inspector who rushed in with a force of six uniformed officers behind him. “The ringleader is tied up outside. Did you find him?”

“Haverston.” The gray-haired inspector with bristling mutton-chops said the name as if it was a curse. “Bastard.” Inspector Jack Dugan had worked with Merrick before, so he didn’t look surprised when he walked up to find two sets of vampyre remains and two subdued human henchmen. Apparently George or one of the children had coshed both men unconscious before they’d fled.

One of the uniformed men, a youngster Merrick didn’t recognize, moved up and cocked an eyebrow at Dugan. “Are we sure he isn’t one of the villains, Inspector?”

Dugan nodded. “More sure of him than I am you, lad. Sir Merrick, this is my new assistant, Constable Liam McCullough. McCullough, meet Sir Merrick Hadrian.”

The younger man’s eyes widened—he’d obviously heard Merrick’s name.

Merrick held out his hand, his nostrils twitching. Werewolf. He remembered that an Earl McCullough had fought alongside his father in Ireland, at the battle against rogue shapeshifters where Aldus Hadrian and five other Knights had been killed. Yes, they’d been aided by several werewolves, as well, but Merrick had never quite gotten over his distrust of the lycanthropes.

McCullough took Merrick’s hand, bowing slightly. “Sir Merrick—our fathers were…acquaintances at one time, I believe.” So he was the son of the earl. His uniform was custom-tailored, his boots top of the line and his accent crisp and educated, yet he seemed deferential to Merrick. Clearly he knew about the Knights. Merrick’s estimation of the young man rose slightly.

Dugan glowered. “Well, you toffs can discuss that over tea and cakes on your own time. Now let’s take care of these girls, shall we?”

Chapter Two

Westminster, London, the following evening

“Now I’ve got you, girl.”

The voice whispered gleefully at the same moment as a large hand clamped down on Caroline’s left breast. The voice was that of her employer, Mr. Willis Wemberly. At the same instant her brain registered that fact, her body reacted of its own accord. Her booted foot stomped down on the arch of his dress pump-covered extremity, while her elbow slammed back into his solar plexus, causing him to expel his breath in a loud whoosh. Before she could get herself under control, she’d spun on her heel, dislodging the offending hand and smashing her fist into his reddened, bulbous nose. Blood spurted, crimson and viscous, over the starched white linen of Caroline’s shirtwaist and an angry bellow assaulted her ears.

Caroline backed away from her employer, upsetting a Chinese porcelain urn as her derriere impacted the hall table. The crash of shattering china echoed in the wide foyer of the Wemberly’s fashionable townhouse, followed immediately by the clatter of footsteps running from several directions.

Damn and blast, there was no way out of this one. She’d be lucky if she was simply turned off, and not handed over to the constables. Thank heavens she’d thought to take precautions this time.

“Mr. Wemberly, whatever has happened?” Mrs. Wemberly’s shrill tones grated like lemon juice on a wound against Caroline’s senses. The lady of the house hurried to her husband, as quickly as her too-tight dancing shoes and even tighter corset would allow, while the butler and housekeeper hustled in with a mechanical whisk broom and some damp towels. The broom mechanism creaked and groaned as Mrs. Dennis, the housekeeper, used it to sweep up the broken porcelain.

His hand clasped over his abused proboscis, Mr. Wemberly pointed at Caroline. “That…that…” Of course with his swollen beak, it came out more like “Dad…dad…” making Caroline work to suppress an utterly inappropriate grin. His last word, however, came out quite clearly, and wiped any trace of a smile from Caroline’s countenance. “Hussy!”

Caroline bristled, though she should have expected him to blame her. They always did. Never mind that she’d never once given any of her employers the least bit of encouragement in a romantic direction.

“It seems Mr. Wemberly has slipped and fallen into the console table,” Caroline said evenly. “I’m sure he isn’t seriously injured.”

“Miss Bristol!” Mrs. Wemberly quivered in outrage as her husband roared his denial. “Do you care to explain this utterly unacceptable behavior?”

Caroline sighed and shook her head. “Not at all. My conscience is completely clear. It is certainly no fault of mine that Mr. Wemberly has consumed far too much brandy and fancies himself irresistible. I shall pack my things and be gone at once.”

“Levenger, summon the constables immediately.” Mrs. Wemberly spun and addressed the butler. “Please have two footmen restrain this…this…creature, in the meanwhile.”

“I don’t think you wish to do that, Mrs. Wemberly.” Caroline kept her tone soft and almost pleasant. “Not unless you want me to take out an advertisement in the Times, detailing the times and places Mr. Wemberly has accepted money in exchange for revealing confidential information about his banking clients. The list is safely in the hands of a dear friend of mine, and she has instructions to publish it if anything happens to me.” Calling the head of the ladies’ book club a dear friend was a bit of an exaggeration, but the other woman had agreed to take out the advertisement if Caroline turned up missing.

Wemberly narrowed his beady, watery blue eyes and glared. “You know nothing, you worthless tramp.” Again, it was more like nudding and dramb, but Caroline registered both the challenge and the insult with the lift of one eyebrow.

“Don’t I? November fifth, at Lady Joseph’s piano recital. You gave Baron Rotherton the names of four companies in precarious financial circumstances. He handed you a large bundle of banknotes in exchange for the list. The baron subsequently managed to obtain controlling interest in each of them and was able to merge them into one rather more successful enterprise. Really, sir, if you’re going to betray your employers, you should be more careful not to be overheard. There are six other incidents on the list. All will be able to be verified, should they come to light.”

After her first employer had nearly raped her, then had her hauled off in chains when his wife had come upon them, Caroline had learned both to defend herself physically, and to make sure she had sufficient leverage to be certain she’d never be arrested for defending herself again.

Mrs. Wemberly swooned, and was neatly caught by Levenger, who handed her off to a footman to be taken up to her room. Levenger and Mrs. Dennis remained, both maintaining utterly stoic facades.

“Whad do you wand?” Wemberly snarled.

“Only what I’m owed,” Caroline said with quiet determination. “I’ll take this quarter’s wages in cash, if you please. I’d like a hackney summoned to take me to a respectable hotel as soon as my bags are packed. I do not expect a reference, but I also insist that none of this is ever discussed publicly. If anyone asks why I am no longer in your employ, the answer is to be the same one I shall use. We simply ceased to suit one another.”

She cast a stern eye at the housekeeper and butler. “That includes the staff, if you please.”

Levenger tipped his head in a civil nod. The butler was a reasonable sort, even if he did feel he owed his loyalty to his employer rather than to Caroline as the aggrieved party. “Of course. Mrs. Dennis, if you will send a maid and footman to Miss Bristol’s room?”

Mrs. Dennis, who was fiercely attached to Mrs. Wemberly, and therefore had never approved of a young and relatively attractive governess in the house, nodded reluctantly. Turning to leave, she shot a glare over her shoulder at Caroline. “Be sure you don’t take nothin’ that don’t belong to you. Beckett will be watching.” Beckett, the footman, was her nephew, and had his own troubles keeping his hands away from Caroline’s posterior.

“Of course.” Caroline adjusted her spectacles which had slipped down her nose during the scuffle. Tucking a stray strand of straight blond hair behind her ear, she turned toward the stairs. “I shall tell the children I am leaving to care for an elderly aunt.” The two Wemberly boys were spoiled brats, of course, but they were only children, after all, and therefore deserved some consideration, unlike their deplorable parents.

Spine held rigidly erect, she mounted the servants’ stair toward her room beside the nursery, where she began to methodically pack her minimal number of possessions under the wrathful gaze of Beckett, and with the more sympathetic help of Sally, the nursery maid. Then she sent Sally to wake the boys, while Beckett carried her trunk down to the waiting hack.

Having said her goodbyes to her charges, she donned her cloak and hat before allowing Levenger to escort her out to the cab. Her gaze remained fixed entirely forward during the drive through the cool evening fog to the same unprepossessing hotel she’d used several times before. Looking back was always a waste of time and energy. So was crying. Caroline blinked back the tears pricking at her eyelids.

She had enough money saved to exist for a short time in genteel poverty, the same state she’d known since her grandfather’s death just before her sixteenth birthday. For the last eleven years, she had lived at the mercy of others, and Caroline was more than sick of it. Regrettably, she had no choice in the matter. Starvation was an even less acceptable option. With that in mind, she’d have to begin seeking a new position immediately. Perhaps, this time, as a companion to an elderly lady—preferably one with no male relatives likely to visit.

Wapping by daylight was nearly as unpleasant as Wapping by night.

Merrick sidestepped to avoid the emptying of a slop bucket from an upper-story window, and only just managed to miss treading in a horse pile in the street. The mingled sounds of prostitutes soliciting business and vendors hawking meat pies was lent cadence by a blacksmith pounding an anvil somewhere nearby and the shouts of dock workers unloading a ship on the next street over.

He’d spent the whole of Thursday night and a good bit of Friday helping Jack Dugan and his young werewolf constable sort out the business of the shop girls. The hired thugs had sung loudly, thoroughly implicating Haverston and admitting that the young women were to be auctioned among several Whitechapel brothels rather than being shipped overseas. When it came to human trafficking, most of England’s business was domestic, rather than international, despite what the penny news sheets would have one believe.

Either way, the girls had escaped an unpleasant fate. Most of them had been welcomed home by their families, but one or two were orphans who had been replaced by their employers and were left with nowhere to go. That’s where Merrick’s aunt Dorothy had stepped in. She’d rallied her crowd of middle-aged bluestockings and found positions for each of the girls in her friends’ households. This hadn’t been as easy as it would have been ten years earlier. The advent of modern steam and clockwork machines made possible by Lord Babbage’s engines had reduced the need for human servants. Even while society slowly accepted women into the ranks of professionals, more and more working class young women were left with no choice but prostitution.

Dorothy had recognized this at once and bullied her friends into hiring additional servants. Of course that meant Merrick had been forced to tell her the whole messy tale.

Naturally, she’d chastised him for not doing something about the plight of the group of children who’d helped him—which he’d meant to do—especially given that one of them was a latent Knight, and that the vampyre who’d escaped had likely gotten a good look at two of them at least. With that in mind, he’d spent all of Friday night trying to find the urchins, which was like hunting for a specific drop of water in a very large pond. Wapping was full of street children, and the part of Merrick’s heart that hadn’t been hardened by a decade of hunting monsters, both human and otherwise, wished it was within his power to do something for each of them.

He did, though, he reminded himself—every time he removed a vampyre or other predator from the streets, he was doing his part. Somehow, standing here in the middle of a narrow Wapping street, it didn’t seem like enough.

Until one of the urchins tried to snatch his watch.

Merrick neatly dodged the rather amateur attempt, but did manage to “accidentally” drop a handful of pennies and ha’pennies onto the ground as he did. Besides assuaging Merrick’s conscience a little, the coins kept the child—and two or three others—occupied while Merrick strolled into the Wigged Pig Tavern. The unprepossessing red brick structure was labeled by a painted wooden sign bearing a rather good rendition of a porcine barrister. When he’d gone into the neighborhood watch house with Dugan to talk to the local chaps, he’d discovered that this was the most likely place for a wily lad named Tommy to be found of an afternoon. Apparently the boy was not just a potential Knight, he was also a cardsharp. Merrick bet having heightened senses and reflexes came in handy for that enterprise.

Cigar smoke and the sour reek of stale beer assaulted his nostrils the moment he entered the dim confines of the tavern, though they were more pleasant than the filth outside. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he took in the crowd—maybe twenty in all. Some were local merchants, stopping in for a bite of luncheon, while others were sailors, down from the docks on shore leave. There were also a few older men, engrossed in a game of draughts that was probably a daily ritual. A couple of doxies lingered in one corner, giving Merrick’s expensive coat a keen eye until he shook his head. He watched for a few moments while at one table in the front corner, Tommy steadily fleeced a pair of sailors in a game of cards.

Merrick walked up to the bar and ordered a pint, then took it over and pulled out an empty chair at Tommy’s table. “Mind if I join you?”

One of the sailors shrugged and threw his cards down onto the table. “You can ’ave my spot,” he grumbled. “I’m broke.”

“Aye.” The other shoved his last ha’penny across the table to Tommy. “Might as well ’ave this now as later, lad. Ye’ve the devil’s own luck today.”

“Thank’ee, gents.” Tommy shot a suspicious glance at Merrick. “Pleasure doin’ business wi’ ye.” Up close and in daylight, the boy’s features appeared even younger than they had in the dark. He was a handsome young man, sandy-haired with keen blue eyes, and features that were just now developing into the strong, sharp lines they’d obtain in manhood. He was tall for a street child too—once he was done growing, if he was well fed, he might match Merrick’s height, or even surpass it, though now he was still three or four inches under six foot, and far too lean.

The sailors moved off as Merrick tossed a handful of coins on the table. Tommy shuffled the worn deck of cards. “What’ll it be, guv? Gin rummy? Five card draw? Vingt-et-un?”

“Dealer’s choice.” Merrick settled back in his chair and sipped his ale. “How’re your friends doing? Run into any more vampyres lately?”

“No.” Like Merrick, Tommy dropped his voice as he dealt out a hand of poker. “Girls are right glad to be home. Our thanks, Sir Merrick.”

“You’re welcome.” Merrick studied his cards and absently discarded all but the pair of threes. “Tommy, have you ever heard of a group called the Order of the Round Table?”

“Like in the old stories, King Arthur and that lot? I’ve ’eard some.”

“Something like that.” Merrick was breaking one of the major rules of the Order, but it had to be done. “I’m talking about real life, though, not a children’s story. Perhaps your father may have mentioned…”

“Never met the man.” Tommy took a drink of his own porter. He tossed one card from his hand and dealt three to Merrick, one to himself. “Mum claimed he was a toff, that’s all I know.”

“And is your mum still alive?” Merrick glanced at his new cards and slid three pennies into the pot.

“Nah, she died years back.” Tommy matched Merrick’s bet before sliding another tuppence forward.

Merrick called the bet, nodding. “Did your mother teach you to hunt vampyres?” While everyone knew about the undead, of course, most people tried to pretend they didn’t, just like ladies in genteel society pretended to be unaware of poverty or prostitution. It was simply considered polite to maintain the social fiction that such unnatural creatures didn’t exist, particularly since the blood-suckers tended to prey on the weak and the solitary. They hunted mostly in the narrow streets and alleyways frequented by the lower classes. The wealthy, who traveled armed and in groups, were generally safe from the relatively rare undead.

“Nah. Picked it up here and there.” The boy shrugged and flipped over his hand. His straight, five through nine of spades, beat Merrick’s triple threes. Merrick tossed his cards down and nodded, acknowledging his loss. He’d almost missed the sleight of hand that had given the boy that last card. Almost, but not quite. He wasn’t ready to call Tommy on that just yet, however.

“Bet you’re a natural at it,” he said as Tommy shuffled and dealt the next hand. “What about the others? How’d you come to work with them?”

Tommy shrugged again. “What’s it to you?” He dealt out the cards, again cheating on the deal, as his own cards all came from the bottom of the deck.

“I owe you—all of you.” Merrick picked up his cards. “And I think you have a special sort of talent for hunting certain creatures. I’d like to see you develop that gift.”

Tommy cocked his head to the side. For a brief moment, his face was that of a typical youth, offered a tempting prize he was just a little too cautious to reach for. His hands went still, the cards in front of him lying untouched. “You offering me a job, guv?”

Merrick tipped his chin. “Of a sort. More of an…apprenticeship, I suppose you’d call it.”

Tommy leaned in closer. “This have anything to do with that magick you did?”

“It does. Spells are part of the training of any Knight of the Order.”

“You’re talking about some kind of vampyre-hunting club?” Tommy was trying to stay stone-faced, but Merrick could see the excitement glinting in his bright blue eyes.

“More of a secret regiment.” Merrick laid down his cards and leaned forward as well. “We call it the Order. It really does go back to the original Knights who worked for Arthur, believe it or not. Magick has been around a long, long time. These days, we get paid by the government for hunting not just vampyres, but other things…feral werewolves, rogue wizards, sometimes even human criminals no one else has been able to catch.”

“Paid?” Tommy sat up a little straighter.

Merrick nodded. “Paid well, once the training is done.” Most of the founding families of the Order held some sort of title, but even those Knights without a family fortune like Merrick usually ended up well-off landowners by the time their service was done—or in some cases their heirs did.

The lad’s enthusiasm visibly waned. “And during the training? Just ’ow long does that take?”

“About a year after you finish university.”

“University?” Tommy’s cackle of cynical laughter caught the attention of a few onlookers, so he paused a moment before lowering his voice and continuing. “For the likes of me? Sorry, guv, but you’re out of your gourd.”

Merrick shook his head. “Not with me as your sponsor, and the Order behind you. It would depend on your abilities, of course, but University is usually part of the package. You’d come live with me, have a tutor to prepare you while we start your training.” Merrick tried not to wince at the thought of having a young hellion sharing his quiet, peaceful home. It couldn’t be helped.

Tommy bit his lip. “I can’t,” he said finally, and Merrick could see the tears he tried to blink back. “I got responsibilities.”

The other children. Merrick nodded gravely—he’d been expecting this, wouldn’t have respected Tommy much at all if he’d left the others on their own. “We’ll come up with something, son. My aunt assures me she can find good homes for them all. Don’t forget, the escaped undead may have seen you. Wapping probably isn’t safe for any of you anymore.”

“No.” Tommy shook his head sadly and held out his hand. “No splittin’ us up. The girls would never go for that. Thanks for the offer, though, guv. Anytime you need a ’and down ’ere in Wapping, you look me up.”

“There’s five of you altogether, right?” Merrick began to panic. He knew nothing about children. Not planning to have any of his own, at least not until he’d left active service, he’d never seen the point in learning about the species. Growing up in a Knight’s household was a hard life—even harder for a Knight’s wife, which was why Merrick didn’t have one. Although he’d been a small child, he’d watched his mother wither a little more each time his father left on a mission until she finally gave up and died.

Tommy nodded. “That’s right. Five.”

The words came out of Merrick’s mouth before he could stop them. “Then I guess you’ll all have to come live with me. Wink and my aunt should get along like a house afire.” If they didn’t end up killing each other—or Merrick—first.

Shrieks of laughter and running footsteps pounded in the upstairs hallway as Merrick stepped inside his townhouse. Wincing at one particularly loud war whoop, he handed his hat and cane to Mountjoy, his butler, before retreating to the sanctity of his library. At his gesture, Mountjoy followed Merrick into the quiet haven, his long, lined face looking remarkably like that of an offended bloodhound.

Things weren’t much better in there. Though presently empty, the place showed signs of recent occupation. A stack of rare first editions was piled haphazardly on the floor, one open with the spine splayed ominously and a glob of what looked and smelled like melted peppermint stick on the pages. Piers. Merrick’s working miniature steam locomotive had been disassembled and lay in the middle of a now oil-stained rug. Wink. His mother’s music box was flat-out missing. Nell. Finally, shards of what might have once been his grandfather’s porcelain snuffbox littered another corner. Jamie. Lord knew what Tommy had been up to. Probably rooking half the staff out of their wages in a card game.

“Have the staff remove all fragile ornaments from the public spaces until further notice,” Merrick said to Mountjoy.

“We already have, sir. I believe that was a teacup.” Mountjoy looked down his nose and sighed as though he were in a great deal of pain. “The new, inexpensive china, purchased by the crate. You’ll be relieved to note the music box and snuffbox are safely locked away.”

“And let’s keep this room locked, shall we?” Now that Mountjoy mentioned it, even the paintings were missing from the library. How had Merrick failed to notice that? There was another crash upstairs that made his skin crawl. Ah yes—he’d been distracted.

“At once, sir.” Mountjoy nodded. He moved to the mechanical sweeper in the corner of the room and cleaned up the china shards while Merrick carried the candy-coated book over to his desk to assess the damage. Having a houseful of children had been every bit as distressing as he’d imagined. Perhaps he could move into his club until his aunt and the staff got the little buggers under control. That shouldn’t take longer than a year. Ten at the outside. He could live in rooms for that long, he was sure of it.

A high-pitched scream echoed through the corridors of Merrick’s townhouse, followed by the sharp crash of porcelain splintering on the marble floor. The whoop of elation shifted into a howl of pain.

“Oh, hell, somebody’s crying.” Merrick shoved past the wide-eyed butler as he dashed out into the hallway. While he didn’t particularly enjoy having the urchins in his home, he certainly didn’t want them hurt. Poor little blighters had been through enough of that already in their short lifetimes.

Merrick reached the foyer in seconds to find Piers and Jamie, the two youngest boys, kneeling at the base of the grand staircase amid the shattered remains of Chinese porcelain and several broken umbrellas. Seamus McCann, a fair-haired, nine-year-old pickpocket better known as Jamie, clasped his left arm up against his chest and made a manly attempt to contain his sniffles. Ten-year-old Piers Jenkins picked a shard of pottery from his friend’s knee and wrapped his handkerchief around the other boy’s leg. Piers’s pale thin face was tight with concern, his hazel eyes wide, and for once, he was missing the clockwork monkey that normally sat on his shoulder.

After sweeping aside the broken china with his boot, Merrick knelt and nudged Piers aside, his glance quickly taking in the rapid swelling of Jamie’s wrist. The odd-shaped lump undoubtedly indicated a broken bone.

“Mountjoy, summon the surgeon,” he called. “And fetch some ice.” He searched Jamie’s gray eyes carefully for signs of shock. “Is the arm the worst of it, lad?”

Jamie nodded. “I’m s-s-sorry ab-bout the s-stand, s-sir.” He cringed back from Merrick as he spoke.

Piers added, “Please, sir, it was an accident. We’re ever so sorry.” His use of proper English was dead perfect. Did he think that would influence Merrick’s behavior?

Probably. Both boys leaned back from Merrick as if certain they were about to be beaten within an inch of their lives, and the idea made him even angrier than he already was. “We’ll discuss the damage to the house later,” Merrick growled. “Jamie, can you move your feet and toes?”

Jamie obediently did. As his shoes and stockings—the brand new ones Merrick had just purchased according to the receipts Dorothy had left piled on his desk—had gone missing somewhere along the way, it was clear to see all ten toes were in proper working order.

“Very well.” Merrick carefully lifted the child and carried him into the library where he laid the boy down on a sturdy sofa. “Any other bits of china sticking in you anywhere?”

“I-I d-don’t think s-so.”

“All right. Let’s look at that knee while we wait for the surgeon to set your arm.” By this time, Merrick was conscious of the other children having gathered in the room behind him. Slowly, he untied the knotted handkerchief, keeping his eyes fixed on Jamie, even as he spoke over his shoulder. “Tommy, would you remind the others that this is why it’s not a good idea to slide down the banister?”

“Yes, sir,” Tommy said. “Is Jamie all right?”

Merrick studied the inch-long cut on Jamie’s knee and decided it probably wouldn’t require stitching. Healing powers were not part of a Knight’s repertoire, but he’d seen enough battle wounds to be a fair diagnostician. “I think a broken arm’s the worst of it. My friend Mr. Wallace is a good surgeon. He should be able to set it so there’s no permanent damage.”

Mountjoy opened a hidden panel on the bookshelf beside Merrick’s desk and filled a towel full of the small ice cubes from the dispenser. After knotting the towel, he handed it to Merrick before turning back to the compartment.

Merrick laid it in Jamie’s lap and helped ease the boy’s forearm down on top of the bundle.

“Sir Merrick?” Mountjoy was at Merrick’s elbow with a snifter. “This always helps you before a visit from Mr. Wallace.”

Merrick took the brandy and held it to Jamie’s lips. “Drink up, lad. It will taste like the devil, but it will help numb the pain.”

Sputtering, Jamie swallowed the ounce or so Mountjoy had poured.

Moments later, Mrs. Granger, the housekeeper, hurried in. The woman’s lips were drawn into a disapproving frown, but her eyes softened a little as she looked down at the injured child. Stern, devout and disapproving of Merrick’s bachelor lifestyle, she did have a weakness for youngsters, or so Merrick remembered from his own childhood. Amazingly, she’d been housekeeper that long. Without another word, she pulled a mechanical sweeper from a cupboard and completed the task Mountjoy had begun before the commotion, then pulled the wheeled brass machine out into the hallway, the motor and the clatter of broken china adding background music to the situation, which was rapidly turning into a farce.

The children all seemed to be talking at once. Tommy tried to convince Mountjoy to pour him a glass of brandy, while Wink—Winifred Carter, the fifteen-year-old technological genius behind George and numerous other mechanical toys the children had brought with them—exclaimed over the vacuum-powered sweeper, and Piers tried to get a book from one of the higher shelves by climbing the ones below it. The former chimney sweep was still not altogether recovered from a bout of pneumonia, but he could climb like nobody’s business. He was also the most wickedly intelligent child Merrick had ever met—frighteningly so, in Merrick’s opinion. In another corner, Piers’s half-sister, Nell was talking to someone—human or spirit, Merrick had no idea. The twelve-year-old girl, whose father had been from India, or some other place with dark-skinned natives, was a natural medium.

The sharp clapping of hands cut through the clamor. “All right, everyone else out of this room.” Dorothy’s voice rang with steel. Merrick hadn’t even realized she’d entered the room, though he was grateful she had. In a fight, he’d seen this group working as a team under Tommy’s direction, but outside of combat, Dorothy seemed to be the only one capable of riding herd on the children, and that control was tenuous at best.

Dorothy motioned toward the hallway and the vacuum sweeper was silenced. “Mrs. Granger, take these children to the kitchen and feed them. Once they’ve eaten, please give them each some useful task to keep them occupied. Children, you will accomplish every chore she assigns you if you wish to have any puddings whatsoever for the next week. Is that understood?”

“Yes, ma’am.” It was Nell who answered.

“We should stay with Jamie,” Wink argued.

“Do you trust Sir Merrick?” Dorothy’s tone was pointed.

After a round of indrawn breaths, dead silence filled the crowded room. Merrick turned from Jamie to see each of the other four studying the toes of their new shoes. Finally it was Tommy who spoke, looking up to meet Merrick’s gaze. He took a deep breath, and then let it out slowly. “I do.”

Merrick was touched. Considering the lengths he’d gone to avoid his new charges, he didn’t deserve such confidence.

“Me too,” piped in Jamie from the couch, albeit weakly. “’E’s all right.”

“Very well. Then trust him to take care of your brother. What Jamie needs now is quiet, and for that, the rest of you must remove yourselves from this library. Is that clear, ladies?” Dorothy cast her dark gaze on Wink and Nell, until both girls gave reluctant nods.

On that note, Mrs. Granger and Mountjoy herded the four momentarily subdued youths out of the library, shutting the thick oak door with a near-silent snick.

Something had tightened in Merrick’s chest when not one of them quibbled over Dorothy’s use of the term brother. Despite what he knew had to be widely disparate backgrounds, these five had indeed forged a closely knit family. It wouldn’t be easy to be considered a part of it—if one wished to, that was.

No. He shook off the thought. These children weren’t his family—they were simply a responsibility he’d chosen to accept. It was important to remember that.

Later, the surgeon had been and gone, Jamie had been put to bed, and Merrick sagged back into his chair in the library, a frazzled Dorothy right beside him.

“You’re right,” he acknowledged, pouring them both a healthy measure of brandy. “We need a governess—or six.”

His aunt didn’t even pretend to be too ladylike to consume the spirits. She took a healthy swig. “Yes. Immediately.”

“It won’t be easy,” he reminded her. “Most of those children are gifted, in one way or another, and there are Order issues to be considered.” Nell saw ghosts, Wink’s mechanical aptitude extended beyond the range of natural genius, Jamie occasionally had glimpses of the future, and Piers was just bloody brilliant. In addition, any governess he hired would also have to be up to the task of training them in the manners of the gentry. After all, as his wards, they’d be expected to move in his social circles one day.

“Don’t worry, dear.” Dorothy patted his hand. “I know just the person.”

Chapter Three

Caroline leaned back against the smooth cordovan leather of Miss Hadrian’s private carriage, turned her head and tried not to sigh at the luxurious, nearly sensual feel of it beneath her cheek. She hadn’t traveled in this sort of comfort since she was sixteen years old. Not even when she’d gone places with her employers—the children and governess were generally relegated to a less elegantly appointed conveyance. Although this ride was only from one neighborhood of London to another, she was determined to enjoy every fleeting second.

It had shocked her to receive a letter last night from Miss Hadrian—Caroline really couldn’t think of the older woman by her first name, no matter how many times she was told to do so. The note had been brief and to the point, just as one would expect from such a straightforward woman. Miss Hadrian’s nephew had recently come into guardianship of five children, aged nine to fifteen. The eldest boy would have a tutor, but a governess was desperately needed for the other four.

Caroline had lain awake all night, pondering the wisdom of accepting this invitation. On the one hand, she desperately needed the position. On the other, she was terrified at the thought of working in a household that included Sir Merrick Hadrian. After her first brief meeting with the man, she hadn’t been able to get him out of her mind—or dreams—for weeks.

The carriage pulled to a halt in front of a Georgian stone mansion that made Caroline gulp. She’d known the Hadrian family was wealthy, but she hadn’t envisioned quite this degree of magnificence, especially for a mere baronet. Still, she held her head high as the liveried footman helped her alight. She kept it there as a dignified butler looked down his long nose at her while she entered through the front door, rather than the rear entrance reserved for servants, or aspiring ones. She’d been surprised as well, when the carriage had stopped at the front of this dwelling, but since it had, she was going to act like she deserved it.

“Caroline, dear, I’m so grateful you could come.” Miss Hadrian hurried into the foyer just as the butler was taking Caroline’s serviceable gray cape. The older woman clasped Caroline’s hand warmly in her own and held her arm to guide her down the wide, imposing hallway.

As usual, Miss Hadrian was dressed in understated elegance. Her deep blue gabardine day dress was made from the finest fabrics, but boasted a single flounce to the skirt and simple braided trim in lieu of the usual ribbons and ruffles. She also wore far fewer petticoats than was the norm for women of her social class. In such company, Caroline didn’t feel quite so dowdy in her brown serge dress, trimmed only by a small ivory lace collar with a tiny brown-and-green ribbon at the throat. It was her newest costume, though it was no more flattering than any of her others. Flattering was not something she strove for when meeting prospective employers.

“You really couldn’t have been available at a more opportune time.” The paneled corridor was unexpectedly free of any knick-knacks or even paintings, though there were several nails still showing where paintings would once have hung. Odd. Had the Hadrian family fortunes taken a sudden reversal? “You’ll understand why I thought of you when you meet the children, my dear. You are exactly what they need.” There was a harried note in Miss Hadrian’s voice that Caroline had never heard before. Certainly something was amiss in this household.

The two women entered a pleasant sitting room, though it too, was devoid of any decorative items save a single bronze urn and a pair of small silver statuettes on the mantelpiece. The furniture was expensive and covered in quality fabrics, so whatever reverses had occurred must be quite recent.

Sir Merrick stood as they entered. The moment she laid eyes on him, Caroline forgot all about the sunny yellow room with the thick green and bronze carpet. Twin shivers coursed down either side of her spine and she knew at once she was going to have to regretfully decline the position.

Households with men were dangerous to a young, relatively attractive governess.

Households with men like this were dangerous to any woman with blood in her veins.

He was even more devastatingly handsome than she’d remembered, tall and broad-shouldered, in an impeccably cut black morning coat. Dark brown hair with just a hint of a wave had been tamed ruthlessly back from a wide forehead, leaving his intelligent golden brown eyes unshadowed, except for slashing dark brows and absurdly thick black lashes. Perhaps thirty or thirty-five, he had fine lines about his eyes and mouth, but no trace of infirmity in his powerful physique and no silver strands in his hair. His features were strong and sharp, his keen gaze giving Caroline the notion that he saw right through the bravado she wore as a shield.

“Merrick, you remember my friend, Miss Caroline Bristol. Caroline, once again, this is my nephew, Sir Merrick Hadrian.”

“Of course I remember, Miss Bristol.” Sir Merrick held out his hand for Caroline’s.

“Sir Merrick.” As if she could have forgotten him. Mentally squaring her shoulders, she held out her own gloved hand and dropped into a slight curtsey, one perfectly befitting a member of the upper gentry, such as a baronet. The tingling sense of connection she felt from his big warm hand had to be an illusion, as she could have gotten no such impression through the thin leather of her gloves.

“Have a seat, dear,” Miss Hadrian urged as a footman entered with a laden tea tray. “You take your tea with a little cream, no sugar, correct?”

“Yes, thank you, Miss Hadrian.” Caroline could barely take her eyes off Sir Merrick long enough to smile at her friend and accept the surprisingly sturdy and plain china cup and saucer she was handed. Then her gaze lit on the tea tray, and she was finally distracted. It was all she could do not to fall voraciously on the plates heaped with sandwiches and cakes. She hadn’t eaten a thing since last evening’s supper.

Sir Merrick accepted his own cup, but Caroline could tell his regard never wavered from her. “Forgive me, miss, but you’re significantly younger than I’d expect in a governess.” His dark brows drew together and his full lips pursed. “Are you certain you’re capable of managing four unruly children?”

Caroline allowed herself a hint of a smile. So the interview had commenced. “I’ve yet to meet the children I cannot teach, provided their parents or guardians allow me to do so.”

“Allow you to do so? Precisely what do you mean by that?” His voice, never warm, had grown colder.

After a fortifying sip of the marvelous tea, she took as deep a breath as her corset would permit, cursing herself for the vanity of having laced it rather tighter than usual. “In some households, the governess is permitted to administer neither punishment nor reward. I find that it is difficult to manage children without those tools.”

His spine stiffened even further. “What sort of punishments do you recommend?”

Here she was on comfortable ground. “Generally one that fits the crime. If one of the children does something to hurt another, the punishment might be to assist the one who was hurt with all of their chores for the rest of the day. If the offense was insulting someone, a written letter of apology might be in order, or a public admission of disgrace, whichever is more fitting. Loss of privileges can also be effective—for example, staying at home and working while the others visit the park.”

“Never physical punishment?” There was no indication in his demeanor to indicate whether he approved or disapproved of the examples she’d given, though, of course, the common wisdom was, “Spare the rod and spoil the child,” with which Caroline fervently disagreed.

Choosing her words carefully, she answered, “I have, upon occasion, physically restrained a child. There was a toddler determined to run into traffic, and another boy intent on beating his younger brother. Both of us sustained some mild bruising that time, though I never actually struck him. I realize my views are radical ones, but I hold them sacrosanct. I have walked away from employers who insisted upon corporal punishment, and will doubtless do so again during the course of my career.”

Sir Merrick tipped his head and let out his breath. “Fine. Have you ever taught…gifted children?”

“Gifted in what way?” She bit her lower lip and looked longingly at a lemon tart on the tea tray. “I’m no musical virtuoso, so couldn’t teach anything more advanced than the basics. The same is true of my ability with pencil or paint. My Greek, Latin, French and history are excellent, and my skill with mathematics and the sciences should be adequate for most young children.”

“I believe my nephew is speaking of supernatural gifts.” Miss Hadrian heaped a plate with food and handed it to Caroline. “I know we’ve discussed such things in the reading circle and you’ve professed an open mind upon the subject.”

Caroline lifted an eyebrow as she swallowed a bit of watercress and cucumber sandwich, savoring every morsel. She used the pause to compose her reply. “An open mind, yes. I do not profess to have any experience or expertise in the matter.” And this was the excuse she’d been looking for. There was no way she could work in a household headed by a man as virile and overwhelming to the senses as Sir Merrick, as much as she liked his aunt. “I’m so sorry, but clearly I’m not the governess you require. Thank you very, very much for considering me, and for the lovely tea.”

Just as she set her empty cup back on the tea tray, the door burst open, and what sounded like a herd of rhinoceros lumbered into the room. There were five, she noted as the running shapes sorted themselves into individual children, plus a rather remarkable collection of mechanical pets—a dog, a monkey and a bird. A cup smashed and suddenly she understood the lack of ornamentation in this otherwise lovely home. The horde been here just a few days, Miss Hadrian’s letter had said.

One of the youngest children, a thin boy of perhaps nine or ten, with straight, medium brown hair and a pallor that hinted at recent illness, skidded to a stop in front of Caroline and winked up at her. “I’m a bastard, you know.” He snatched a crumpet off the tray and flitted away, grinning wickedly.

Caroline couldn’t help the smile that emerged through her mask of propriety. “I see.” She helped herself to a raspberry tart off her plate. Delicious. “As am I. How nice that we have something in common.” The noisy cluster all stopped and stared at her with wonder as she bit into the tart and chewed.

After swallowing, she added, “However, most people would prefer us not to discuss such things with strangers. It makes them uncomfortable, you know, and the whole point of good manners is to avoid making people feel awkward.”

“We don’t need no governess.” One of the girls rubbed her toe on the carpet and stared intently downward. Her dark hair and almond-shaped eyes hinted at an exotic heritage, though her Cockney accent was all London.

“Of course you don’t.” Caroline found she was enjoying herself for the first time since she’d left the coach. These children were fun. It was a shame she couldn’t stay. Then her glance strayed over to a scowling Sir Merrick and the thrill of attraction she still felt reinforced her resolve. “And I shan’t be staying, so you needn’t worry. Perhaps, though, since I have been a governess, and I am here at the moment, I can help you understand the purpose of the species while we enjoy our tea?”

“You talk funny.” The youngest boy, a tow-headed imp, had his arm in a sling. He stuffed a lemon tart into his face, all in one piece.

“I probably do, sometimes.” Caroline saw the fear that lurked behind his pale gray eyes. These children were bold but terrified. It would be good to put their minds at ease before she went on her way—and she could have another bite or two while she was about it. The sandwiches were delicious, after all—if she nibbled long enough, she wouldn’t have to buy supper tonight. “But never mind that. What do you think a governess is supposed to do?”

“Take away all our fun,” answered the thin, pale boy, his mouth full of sandwich. The other children nodded.

“I see.” Caroline sipped her tea. “So what do you consider fun? How do you like to spend your days?”

“Playing.” It was the young blond who piped up. Caroline patted the sofa beside her and he climbed up, allowing her to slip a pillow under his injured arm.

“Reading.” The middle boy, the thin, sickly one, injected the single word with reverence.

“Working on my machines.” The eldest girl, a lovely waif with rich auburn curls, wore coveralls stained with machine oil, but boasted a surprisingly proper accent.

The dark-haired girl shrugged, then whispered softly, “Singing.”

“Those are all excellent activities.” Caroline regarded each of them seriously. “But wouldn’t any of those things be easier to do with a bit of learning? For instance, one can play more games if one is able to read the rules. Isn’t that so? And how about all those books in Latin, or Greek, or French? Wouldn’t you like to learn to read those as well?” She turned to the girls. “One needs advanced mathematics to study engineering, and there’s a rather lovely pianoforte over in that corner. Someone to give lessons on that would certainly be helpful to a singer.”

Each of them stopped to consider her words.

She went on. “And of course, there are a thousand silly things to learn too—like which fork to use for shellfish or how to write a proper thank you note. Totally pointless, but people do expect one to know them. You wouldn’t want to embarrass Sir Merrick or Miss Hadrian, would you? It will look very poorly for them if their wards were unaware of proper behavior.”

“She’s right.” The eldest girl nodded her head sharply. “We do need to put on a good front for Sir Merrick’s sake.”

The others seemed to take their cue from her and nodded glumly.

“All right.” The littlest boy gazed up at Caroline plaintively. “But can we still play some of the time?”

Caroline laid her hand on the lad’s good one. “Of course. Play is an important part of everyday life. I’m sure that Sir Merrick and Miss Hadrian will find you a governess who will make time to play alongside you, as long as your lessons are done as well.” Even though she knew she wasn’t the right person for the job, she had confidence that Dorothy Hadrian would let no harm come to these orphaned youngsters. Still, she felt a small pang of loss at the idea of leaving. There was something about this raggle-taggle group that certainly tugged at the heartstrings. Guiding a cadre of street toughs into becoming ladies and gentlemen would be a monumental but rewarding task for a teacher.

Merrick cringed when the children burst through the door. This would be the coup de grâce to the idea of hiring Miss Caroline Bristol. Which was all for the best, he reminded himself. She was clearly far too young and far too attractive to make any kind of effective governess. He’d be forever distracted by wondering if her golden hair, which was scraped back into an inordinately unappealing bun on the back of her head, felt as soft as it looked, or if her green eyes could really be that bright. Most disturbing, though, was the hint of power she radiated—something about her made him think she was as gifted as any of the children.

Astonishingly, after a short conversation, the children came up to her one by one. “I’m Tommy,” said Merrick’s new protégé. Then he shook Miss Bristol’s hand before politely introducing each of the others.

“Very pleased to meet each of you.” Miss Bristol had spoken a few words with each child, though she shied back from patting George on the head.

Nell moved over to clutch Merrick’s sleeve and whispered, “Mum says we should keep her.”

He nodded, having almost grown used to commentary from Nell’s invisible mother. Miss Bristol swiveled her head, clearly having overheard.

“Nell sees ghosts.” Piers plopped onto a stool near Miss Bristol’s feet and took another sandwich. “Our mum still talks to her.”

“Well, that seems a little unfair, doesn’t it?” Miss Bristol clearly sympathized. “But surely the messages are for the rest of you as well.” She didn’t even blink at the mention of ghosts, which earned her a great deal more respect from Merrick.

“Mostly only Nell and Piers. She’s their mum. Not the rest of us.” Jamie was positively chatty now, it seemed. “My mum died too, though, and she never talks to me.”

“Mine either, dear.” Miss Bristol patted his knee. “But each of us has different circumstances, don’t we? And now you have Miss Hadrian and Sir Merrick, which makes you all very lucky indeed.”

“Please, Sir Merrick.” Nell tugged on his sleeve this time.

“I’m sorry, dear—Nell, right? But I’m not here to be your new governess.” Miss Bristol smiled sweetly. “Just visiting, I’m afraid. I’m sure though, that your guardians will find you the perfect teacher.”

“Nah, we want you,” Jamie argued. “You said you’d play with us.”

Miss Bristol bit her full lower lip, then licked away a crumb. Judging by the amount she’d consumed, she hadn’t eaten all day. Hell, she probably needed the position just to survive.

“No, Jamie. I said any good governess will play with you.”

“Children, are you all agreed on this?” Dorothy looked around at each of the now-sticky faces. They all nodded back, and Merrick groaned inwardly. He was pretty sure his preferences had been rendered irrelevant. Oddly enough, he didn’t care. There was something about this woman that just seemed to—to fit in his newly chaotic household. At the very least she’d gotten them to sit quietly for ten minutes—a miracle in itself.

Dorothy nodded decisively. “Then I suggest you all take yourselves back upstairs and try not to break anything for a few minutes. Your guardian and I need to talk to Miss Bristol privately.”

Merrick was amazed at how swiftly the children obeyed her, each one bidding Miss Bristol a polite good day as they left the room.

When the door closed behind them, Dorothy laughed. “Well, Merrick, I believe you owe me an apology for doubting my judgment.” She turned to Caroline. “He didn’t believe I knew someone who could calm them so quickly.”

Merrick shook his head. “I suppose I do. Miss Bristol, that was amazing. Whatever salary you normally require, consider it doubled if you’ll take pity on us and stay.” The one thing that might keep him sane with a beauty like this in the household was the reminder that Dorothy had mentioned Miss Bristol expressing her preference for teaching over marriage. Come to think of it, maybe she was like Dorothy and didn’t care for men at all. Though he had no evidence to support the idea, he clutched it like a lifeline. He’d never thought he’d be glad to assume that a desirable young woman preferred other females.

“I don’t think—” she began.

“Come, Caroline. You know you need employment rather urgently.” Dorothy’s tone was uncharacteristically cruel, but Merrick trusted his aunt’s instincts, so he didn’t say anything to soften her harsh words. Moments later, Dorothy did it herself. “And as you can see, these aren’t ordinary children. They need you, Caroline. Not just any governess, but one with your gift for understanding. They require that quite desperately.”

Miss Bristol sat silently with her hands folded in her lap as she thought. Finally, she gave a slight nod. “Very well. If you’d be so kind as to send a carriage, I can have my things packed and be back by tomorrow morning.”

Merrick heard a crash in the distance and winced. “We’ll send a servant to help you pack. You can be installed by suppertime.”

That entire day proved to be one Caroline would not soon forget. She gazed in amazement at the luxuriously appointed guestroom to which she was shown.

“Surely, this can’t be meant for me.” She turned back to Miss Hadrian who’d escorted her personally to her new quarters. “There must be some mistake.”

“You’ll see.” The older woman’s amusement was plain in the crinkling of her dark eyes. “This will be perfect. Tommy has the room next to you, and when his new tutor arrives next week, he’ll be placed on the other side. The nursery is directly across the hall.”

“Surely there’s a room in the nursery suite for the governess?”

“There is. But the girls have claimed it as their own—even though they were offered this one as an alternative. Besides, Caroline, I’m afraid your position in this household won’t be a normal one. Everything about this arrangement is topsy-turvy, so you might as well enjoy what you can about it. You’ve enough difficulties ahead, and Merrick and I want you to know how much we value your assistance. You’re to consider yourself a guest, whenever you’re not occupied with the children. It’s the least we can do.”

“Miss Hadrian, I’m still not certain this is the best of ideas—”

“Nonsense. You know you love a challenge, and you told me yourself that teaching is your true vocation. Can you imagine a greater achievement than civilizing that lot?” As she spoke, two of the children ran past the open door, yowling as they went.

“I suppose that’s true.” There was something appealing about the idea of being needed and actually valued by her employers. “Very well. What time do the children take supper? I assume they dine in the nursery?”

“We’ve been having them take one meal a day in the dining room with us—luncheon usually seems best. We do want them to see proper manners in action. For supper, I’ve mostly been joining them in the schoolroom, in a supervisory manner, even if I’m dining out afterward. Cook usually sends something up at seven.”

There was a pretty porcelain clock on the mantelpiece and to Caroline’s horror, it showed only ten minutes to seven. She had no time to unpack then, though she did spare a moment to unearth an apron to cover her skirts.

“I’ll go get them washed up,” Dorothy said. “Tonight I’ve a dinner engagement, but I’ll be here to get you started at least. No panicking, dear.” Before Caroline could speak, Dorothy had bustled out the door and across the hall.

As Caroline unpinned her hat and laid it atop a lovely cherry wood bureau, a sharp whistle cut through the sounds of laughter and pattering feet. Caroline tugged off her ugly black gloves and checked her hair in a lovely gilt mirror above the bureau. Not too many strands had come loose, thank heaven. She adjusted one pin, securing the biggest lock that had fallen out of her chignon, and washed her hands in the adjacent water closet—goodness, there was even a copper bathtub in here, with its own hot and cold taps. But there was no time now to explore her luxurious new surroundings. Taking one last fortifying breath, she straightened her spine and walked across the hall.

Chapter Four

Chaos didn’t begin to describe the nursery. Actually, Caroline wasn’t sure the word nursery was an appropriate designation at the moment. Zoo might have been better—or asylum.

One corner was littered with machines in various stages of dismemberment, along with a neatly arranged assortment of tools. Someone had at least rolled up the rug and laid down a swatch of oil cloth, but Caroline feared the polished oak floor would never be quite the same.

Another section of the nursery contained all the typical toys—a rocking horse, soft wooly animals and what appeared to be several armies’ worth of tin soldiers, laid out in an intricate battle, using the soft toys and stacks of picture books as terrain obstacles.

The room was oddly devoid of dolls. Not even a toy cradle or miniature pram was in sight. Interesting.

Taking in all these details as she moved through the room at a steady pace, Caroline pressed onward, through a set of open pocket doors into the adjoining schoolroom—walking onto the field of battle, as it were. In here, two harried-looking maids and one footman valiantly attempted to serve dinner to the boisterous throng. Miss Hadrian sat at one end of the table while the place at the other end was laid but vacant. As the table was lower than a normal one—three-quarter sized to accommodate children of various ages—Miss Hadrian’s impressive stature made her look more than a little out of place.

“Please, won’t you join us, Miss Bristol?” Her tone was even, but loud enough to be heard over the noise. “Boys, it’s customary for gentlemen to rise when a lady enters the room.”

“Why?” The middle one—Piers?—scratched his head. One of the girls elbowed him though, and he scrambled to his feet, dragging the youngest chap with him. Across the table, Tommy, who was several inches taller than Caroline, unfolded himself from the too-small chair.

“It’s just one of those things.” Caroline sent Piers a smile and allowed the sole attending footman to pull out her chair. “I don’t know if anyone knows a genuine reason for it, but it is a tradition, and people expect to see it.”

“It is a sign of respect.” Miss Hadrian nodded at the boys. “And forgetting to do so conveys a lack thereof and insult to the lady in question. You may be seated now and resume your meal.”

The younger children cocked their heads, while Wink shook hers and translated. “If you don’t stand, it means she’s not a lady, you dolts. You’re calling her a doxy.”

That they understood.

“Sorry, miss,” Tommy said hurriedly. The two younger boys echoed the apology, eyes wide with horror.

“Apologies accepted.” Caroline placed her napkin in her lap.

Miss Hadrian then introduced Caroline to the servants, who eyed her speculatively but only nodded in response. “Now what has Cook prepared for our dinner?”

The meal was a simple one, suited for the nursery, but with plenty of food to sustain growing children, three of them boys. A hearty fish chowder was served with slabs of fresh, warm bread for the first course. While it wasn’t precisely normal for a footman and maids to serve separate courses in the nursery, Caroline understood that it was an effort to speed the children’s adaptation to their new social stratum.

“Which spoon should we use for the soup?” Miss Hadrian asked before she lifted her own. “Nell, can you remind us of that?”

“Sure.” Nell picked up her soup spoon on the first try. There was a motion under the table as if Wink had kicked her, because she corrected herself. “I mean yes, miss. It’s this one.”

“Exactly.” Dorothy stood. “I’m dining out this evening, so I must take my leave. I do hope you’ll all behave for Miss Bristol. After all, we’d like her to stay, would we not?”

The children nodded, none of them pausing to speak.

“Thank you,” Caroline said with a smile. “Good night, Miss Hadrian.”

Miss Hadrian tipped her head, a wry twist to her narrow lips. “You’re not going to call me Dorothy, are you?”

Caroline smiled back and shook her head. “No, Miss Hadrian.”

“Can we settle on ‘Miss Dorothy’? That would work for the rest of this lot as well. I’m tired of being Miss Hadrian in my own household.”

“I believe that will work nicely.” Caroline turned to the children. “Say good-night to Miss Dorothy, please.”

Each of them did, and to Caroline’s amazement, the older woman took a moment to bend down and somehow touch each child—a tousle of the hair for Piers, a chuck on the cheek for Jamie, and a squeeze of the shoulder for Nell, Wink and Tommy. With that, she left Caroline in charge.

What an odd household this was—and how lucky Caroline felt at that moment to have been invited to be part of it. “So tell me a little about yourselves.” She made eye contact with each of the children. “I come from Somerset, in the west of England. What about each of you? Are you all from here in London?”

Five heads nodded without pausing in their inhalation of the soup. “We’re from Wapping, miss.” Nell spoke after she swallowed. Caroline recognized the name of a London slum, though she’d never been there. “Most of us was born there.”

“Exceptin’ Wink.” Tommy helped himself to more soup from the tureen. “She didn’t come ’ere till her da’ died.”

Caroline debated correcting his grammar, but decided information was more important at this juncture. “I’m sorry for your loss, Winifred. Was it recently?”

“No, miss. It was…” The girl nipped her lower lip while she calculated. Her golden brown eyes were striking with her auburn hair. “Six years ago? I was nine, then. When my papa was alive, we traveled all over—so I can’t really say I came from anywhere.”

“So you’re fifteen now?”

Wink nodded.

“And you, Tommy—Miss Hadrian—Miss Dorothy said you’re fifteen as well.”

“Aye, miss.”

“What about you, Nell? Is Nell short for Eleanor, by the way, or for something else?”

The dark-eyed girl looked down at her plate. “It’s Eleanor, miss. I’m twelve, close as I can figure. Piers is two years younger, and Jamie’s nine.”

Well, that was a start. “So tell me, which of you can read and write?”

Wink lifted her hand. “I can, in English and a little French and Italian.”

“I can read.” Tommy looked down his long nose. “I’m not a baby.”

“Of course not.” Caroline took a moment to savor a bit of the soup. “But I know plenty of adults who never bothered to learn much beyond their own names. I need to know where each of you is starting out, so I can begin to plan your lessons—though Tommy, I believe you’re to have a proper tutor.”

“Aye.” The boy nodded, then winced. Another kick from Wink? “I mean, yes, miss.”

“I can read.” Piers spoke up shyly. “Wink taught me while I was sick. Used to fix machines to get books for me, and medicine.”

Wink shrugged. “People pay me to fix up their clockwork and boilers. Sometimes they’d give me a book to go with the blunt.”

Caroline filed away that tidbit of information. “Wink, did you build the dog—George, you said his name was? He’s quite lifelike. You must really have a talent with machines.”

“Yes, miss. Well—not his outsides. I found those in a dump and built him new insides.”

“I’m impressed.” She was. Anyone who could make machines work had her admiration. “Jamie, please don’t reach across the table for the salt. Ask someone to pass it to you.”

“Sorry, miss.” The boy twitched restlessly as the footman removed the soup plates and the maids laid a main course of roasted chicken with carrots, peas and potatoes.

The children fell on the meal like a starving horde. The scents were heavenly, and it was all Caroline could manage not to do the same. “I believe that tomorrow morning I shall spend a little time with each of you, going over things like reading, writing, mathematics and geography, just to assess where you’ll need to begin your lessons. After luncheon, I prefer to take a walk in the park, if that is acceptable. Then in the afternoon, we shall get down to business. After teatime, there will be an hour or so of playtime, followed by some shared reading. Any questions?”

“Do we have to work every day?” Jamie’s lower lip jutted out and trembled. “You said you’d play with us.”

“And I shall.” Caroline smiled. “There will be some time for play every afternoon. We’ll take Sundays off completely, and we’ll try to set one day a week aside for an educational outing of some sort. Thursdays will be half-days, with the afternoons free, at least for now.”

Mary, one of the maids, rolled her eyes and muttered something about asking for Thursdays off.

Which is when Piers used his spoon to shoot a pea at the maid.

Pandemonium erupted. Clearly, twenty minutes was the maximum length of time for this brood to behave.

Mary shrieked, was hit in the mouth by a gob of potatoes, then ran from the room in tears. Caroline didn’t see the culprit in that case, but the angle suggested Wink.

Jamie knocked over his milk in the process of punching Piers, who retaliated with a barrage of multiple peas at Jamie, then another at Nell.

Mashed potatoes appeared on Piers’s face, then on Tommy’s. His elbow knocked Wink’s plate to the floor, and she dumped her glass of milk into his lap.

“Enough.” Caroline rapped her spoon on her water glass to cut through the chaos, and the children went silent. “That will be quite enough of that.” Caroline stood and glowered at each of them in turn. “Clearly, everyone is finished with their meal.” She turned to Johnson, the footman. “Can you please remove the rest of the food? Including any sweets. They shan’t be needed.”

“Yes, miss.” With a crisp nod, the footman and Sally, the remaining maid, began to gather the scattered components of the meal, ignoring the wails of protest from the two younger boys.

Caroline stood and surveyed the children with a stern look. “Now, each of you children shall retire to your bedrooms, change out of any soiled clothing, wash your faces and hands, and then meet me in the nursery in ten minutes. Understood?”

“Yes, miss.” Wink hung her head.

The others just nodded and filed toward the door.

“Piers, would you remain here a moment? And Tommy, please assist Jamie if he needs it.” While her words remained polite, her tone was as icy as she could manage.

Tommy followed Jamie out the door while Piers returned to stand in front of Caroline.

The boy stared down at the toes of his scuffed black boots and coughed. His already pale complexion whitened even further. “Yes, miss?” The poor thing was terrified, but not, Caroline somehow sensed, of a physical beating. She got the feeling that being switched wouldn’t have bothered the lad in the least. Interesting. What was he afraid of?

“Since you were the one who started that ruckus by shooting a pea at Mary’s head, it seems only fair that you should do her share of the work in cleaning up, doesn’t it? After all, Johnson and Sally shouldn’t have to do her work too, not because of something you caused.”

He shuffled his foot on the carpet. “Yes, miss.”

“Very well, you may assist Johnson and Sally in clearing the table and sweeping up the mess. Then you may go wash your hands and join the rest of us.”

Caroline smiled at Sally, a sturdy young woman who looked annoyed and amused, rather than terrified. “Please make sure that Piers does his share of the cleaning.”

Sally grinned wickedly as she bobbed her head and began to help load dishes of food back onto the rolling cart. “Of course, miss.”

Piers nodded and knelt to pick up some shards of broken crockery. Immediately, Johnson was there with the automated sweeper. “Use this, lad, so you don’t cut your hands.”

Caroline watched until she was certain that the servants were carefully guiding the boy, making him work, but ensuring his safety and not putting extra onus on him out of spite. Then she took Sally aside and asked that some brown bread and butter be sent up to the schoolroom later. None of these children should go to sleep hungry, but there needed to be some punishment. After the maid agreed, Caroline moved into the playroom, where Tommy and Jamie had already returned, freshly washed.

“Tommy, what is your usual bedtime?” A glance at the mantel clock showed it was presently a quarter past eight.

“Nine, for the younger two,” he admitted, glancing down at Jamie’s fair head. “Miss Hadrian’s been letting me and the girls stay up a little later, reading or whatnot. Lights out by eleven though, even for us.”

“Perfect.” Caroline beamed. Once the others came in, she took a seat in a rocking chair near the hearth, a strong wire net in place to keep little fingers away from the coals, and spoke. “Could each of you find a chair and come sit in a circle?”

Obediently each child fetched a stool or chair from some corner of the room and arranged them in a tight circle.

Caroline put on her sternest expression. “I know that living in a house like this one takes some getting used to, and there are going to be times when we disagree about how we’re to go on. I’ll always try to be fair, but you must know that if you disobey me, there will be consequences. Tonight will be no exception. Is that completely clear to everyone?”

Five heads nodded soberly.

“Are we being sent away?” Nell’s barely whispered words went straight to Caroline’s heart as she spied fear in all five sets of eyes.

Ah. That was what they feared worse than a beating. This, Caroline thought, she could safely address. “No. Do you really think Sir Merrick has so little honor that he’d go back on his word, no matter how much you provoke him?”

They all shook their heads.

“So it might behoove you to stop testing his tolerance. He isn’t going to throw you back on the streets. As for tonight,” Caroline said, “instead of having some time to yourselves between supper and bedtime, you will be writing letters of apology, to Johnson, to Mary, to Sally, and another to Cook, for wasting such a lovely meal. The fifth will be to Miss Hadrian, for breaking your promise to behave. You may decide among you who shall write which letter.”

“Jamie can’t write, miss.” Wink kept her eyes downcast. “He’s just now learning his letters. I can do his for him.”

“Jamie did his share of the poor behavior, so he shall do his share of the punishment, though his version of a letter may certainly differ from those of the rest of you,” Caroline acknowledged. “Perhaps one of the recipients would appreciate a drawing, with the word sorry, which he can copy. Shall we adjourn to the schoolroom? Who can show me where the paper, pens and ink are located?”

Tommy lifted his hand. “I can, miss. And I’ll write to Miss Hadrian.”

“I threw the pea at Mary,” Piers said glumly. “I should apologize to her.”

“Excellent choice, Piers,” Caroline said.

“Cook likes pictures,” Jamie noted. “Gots one in the kitchen she said was from her grandson.”

“Very well. Wink and Nell, that leaves Johnson and Sally.” Caroline stood. “Now come along.”

They all obediently followed her into the other room. Tommy showed her the cabinet containing writing supplies, and she removed six slates and chalk, along with pens, pencils and paper. She distributed the slate and chalks first. On the sixth, she wrote, “I’m sorry for wasting food,” and handed it to Jamie. “Practice copying those words,” she told him, then to the rest, “I want to see your letters written out on the slates, so we can make corrections before you commit them to paper and ink.” She had no intention of making this too easy for them.

As they worked, Caroline patrolled the outside of the table, pointing out errors in spelling or wording, as well as suggesting possible additions to the letters. Eventually she handed Jamie a piece of foolscap and some colored pencils, watching as he carefully wrote his five words at the top and his name at the bottom, then began to draw.

She filled inkwells and distributed paper to the older children once their longer, more detailed apologies had been approved, based on age and skill. Piers’s to Mary was brief and to the point, but Caroline was satisfied that it was heartfelt and hoped the maid wouldn’t end up resigning over the contretemps. Finally, Caroline helped them fold the letters and seal them with small globs of candle wax. Just as they finished, Sally carried in the tray of bread, butter and tea which the children all regarded hopefully.

Shyly, Nell handed Sally her letter as Caroline had instructed. “We’re sorry. We’ll try not to do it again.”

The young woman quickly hid a grin. “All right then. Reckon things happen, sometimes.” Caroline made a mental note to ask if that particular maid could be assigned to the nursery full-time.

“The rest of you will deliver your letters in the morning,” Caroline said. “Now, while we have our snack, I’d like to begin a habit of reading aloud in the evenings. I’ll start off, then perhaps we can eventually take turns. I see a shelf of books over against the far wall. Jamie, do you have a favorite story?”

“Hansel and Gretel, miss. My mum used to tell me that one.”

“And is there a copy of that over there?”

Piers nodded. “I’ll get it.” He hurried over to the shelf and returned with a book of faery tales. “It’s in here.”

“Thank you, Piers.” Caroline found the place and waited until Piers took his seat before she began to read.

Things had been quiet upstairs for over an hour, which was worrisome. God knew what those little demons were up to. He’d managed to talk the maid out of quitting, but it had been a close thing. Now, Merrick had planned to leave for his club, but on his way upstairs to change, he couldn’t resist a side trip to the nursery, which, thank God, was in the opposite wing from his bedroom.

He padded down the hallway and spotted the new governess bending over one of the twin beds in the younger boys’ room. To Merrick’s surprise, both boys were clean and quiet in their beds—and not tied in place, which made their stillness even more suspect.

“Does it hurt very badly?”

“Not much, miss,” Jamie replied with a grin and a yawn.

“Well, good. We’ll have you fixed up in no time.” Miss Bristol tucked the sheets up around the boy’s chin and brushed a strand of hair off his face as Merrick watched from the doorway. Then she moved over to the other bed and plucked a book out of Piers’s hands. “Sleep now. There will be plenty of time for reading tomorrow. You need to get rid of that cough before you start burning the midnight oil.” She feathered a hand across the boy’s cheek before walking over to the dresser and turning down the lamp.

“Good night, miss,” both boys chorused as she turned toward the door.

Good lord, had she mesmerized them?

“Good night. I’ll leave the door open a touch, in case you need anything. I’ll be right across the hall.”

Merrick couldn’t see it, as he had ducked away from the exit before she turned, but he imagined both boys rolled their eyes at the cosseting. He wondered what the so-proper Miss Bristol would think if she could see her new charges wielding swords and fighting a vampyre.

“Is something amusing, Sir Merrick?” She’d slipped out of the room and partially closed the door behind her.

“Nothing at all, Miss Bristol. Do you think you can spare me a few moments of your time?”

“Of course.” She dipped a hint of a curtsey and waited for him to lead the way. Merrick didn’t think most men would have caught the shadow of wariness in her eyes, but then most men didn’t have Dorothy for an aunt. She’d informed him quite plainly that Miss Bristol had suffered advances from more than one employer, and warned him in no uncertain terms to keep his hands to himself—which suited him just fine. The last thing he wanted to do was get tangled up with an employee.

Instead of his library, he led her to a small, second-story sitting room, one open to the gallery at the top of the stairs. Dorothy favored this space for reading and visiting with friends, so a fire was kept glowing in the small marble hearth and the gaslights burned softly. Two chairs flanked a pedestal table near the back wall, and Merrick held one for Miss Bristol before seating himself opposite. A slight tension relaxed from her shoulders as he rested his hands on the tablecloth, in plain view. Damn, she had been accosted, hadn’t she?

“How the blazes did you get them quieted down?” In his limited experience, the only time those children were still was when they had passed out from exhaustion—or when they were plotting something.

Miss Bristol smiled. “In the boys’ case, full bellies, warm milk and a bloodthirsty bedtime story. They were nodding off before I reached ‘the end.’ The girls are happily doing whatever they wish for another hour or so, which means Nell is playing with her dolls and Wink is tinkering with her machines—though she said she’ll work on the smaller ones at night while the younger children are asleep, and keep the banging to a more civilized hour.”

“And Tommy?” Merrick meant to spend a little more time assessing the skills of his new ward before the Order’s tutor arrived.

“He is supposed to be studying his geography, but I believe he is cheating your footman and valet out of their wages down in the kitchen.” Behind her spectacles, there was a wry twinkle in her green eyes that suggested she wasn’t too offended.

“And you know this how?” Not that he thought she was wrong.

“Nell was less than pleased that he managed to escape the nursery and she didn’t. Once I got her talking about her dolls, however, she forgot all about it. Did you know she’s moved them all from the nursery to a corner of her bedroom? That one will either grow up to be a governess herself or have a brood of her own. She’s a natural with children. Each of the dolls in the nursery already has a name and a distinct personality. When she sings to them, it’s truly something to hear.”

Merrick chuckled. “Some use for those poor dolls at last. The only girl in that nursery for generations was Aunt Dorothy, and she never cared for girlish toys, though I understand her mother kept trying to interest her, which is why there’s such a large collection. My grandmother was a determined woman.”

“Imagine that.”

He chose to ignore the hint of dry sarcasm, though his lips may have twitched just a bit. Although he really should be leaving for his club, he found he was enjoying her quiet wit, so he lingered. It couldn’t be that trace of lavender and roses he kept smelling that had him mesmerized, or the challenging sparkle in those emerald eyes. No, he told himself firmly, it was simply good form to enquire after his newest staff member. “After having successfully navigated your first few hours, do you have any questions about your charges?”

“Do you truly believe that Nell can see ghosts, or are you merely humoring her?”

“She can see and speak with ghosts.” He steepled his fingers and studied Miss Bristol’s face intently, gauging her response. “It’s not a belief, it’s a fact. Will you be able to cope with that, Miss Bristol?”

Her pause for careful consideration pleased him—she was taking the question seriously. “Yes,” she finally said, nodding. “I believe I can. And the others?”

“Before we go any further, Miss Bristol, there are things you should know about this household—and things I may not discuss with you. I’ll need your word that none of this will ever pass your lips to anyone other than my aunt or myself. Aunt Dorothy trusts you. I hope that trust is not misplaced.”

“Unless the secret is a matter of breaking the law, I can give you my word. If the matter is an illicit one, then I suppose I’d like to know whether or not it is designed to victimize others. If you are a crime lord, Sir Merrick, I would prefer to walk away, though I will swear to secrecy regarding what I’ve seen and heard up to this point.”

Crime lord? Merrick gave in to the laughter that rumbled in his chest. “Rather the opposite, my dear. The secrets you may run across in this household are considered to be matters of State. My appointment is to the Crown.”

Her smile was warm and transformed her severely pretty face into one that was vivacious and lovely. Damn, he didn’t want to have noticed that. Back to business. “Well, then, you have my word that nothing I see or hear shall pass my lips.”

“Excellent.” How much to tell her? “Suffice it to say that Nell is not the only one of the children with supernatural gifts. Tommy, in particular, possesses talents that make him valuable to the Crown. His tutor will be working with him to develop those skills as well as the more ordinary ones.”

“I see. And the others are, of course, aware of his abilities. So part of my task is to keep them from inadvertently revealing anything to the outside world.”

She was taking this rather well. He nodded. “And helping them adjust to their new position in society, which will take a good bit of work.”

“Not in every case—Wink, at least, has had some formal education. Though getting her to wear frocks instead of trousers may prove difficult.”

“I suspect you are up to the challenge.” He rose to his feet and held out his hand. “Welcome to my household, Miss Bristol. If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Thank you, Sir Merrick.” She stood and shook his hand. Once again, even through their gloves, he felt a frisson of…something. Was it true power or simple attraction? He rather hoped for the former. “Have a good evening, sir. I’m off to check on the girls.” With a swish of her biliously ugly brown skirts, she was out the door.

Caroline straightened the covers around Nell, who’d fallen asleep in the rocking chair with one of her dolls in her lap. Fortunately, the girl hadn’t truly woken when Caroline lifted her and put her to bed. Each of the eight dolls had, if not a cradle or toy pram to sleep in, at least a hatbox or carton that had been lined with scraps of cloth for blankets.

With her exotic looks, Nell might have the most difficulty fitting in to British society, but she was sweeter natured than some of her cohorts, which would help ease her path. Caroline tucked the covers in around the girl, then went out into the playroom where Wink was quietly tinkering with a bit of bronze and tin, her faithful companion, George, by her side.

“What are you building now?” Caroline sat in a chair well removed from any mechanism and folded her hands in her lap.

“It’s a spaniel,” Wink answered without looking up. “For Piers. I’d made him a kitten while he was ill, but it was destroyed by a cart horse.”

“From what I’ve gathered, Piers is a very lucky boy to have had the rest of you to look after him last winter.” Caroline had managed to discover that Piers’s bout with pneumonia had been a close call, and that he’d just been back on his feet for the past few months.

Wink shrugged, not looking up from her work. “When their mother died, their landlady sold him to a chimney sweep, and Nell was placed in an orphanage. Her mother and some other ghosts helped her escape. The governors of the orphanage were going to sell her to a brothel as soon as she had her first…” Her fair skin flushed and she stared intently at her work.

“Menses,” Caroline suggested, horrified but not terribly surprised. In that business it was probably considered a kindness to wait that long—many girls were sold off even younger. Though it took some effort, she kept her voice calm and even. “The scientific term is menses, though among women, even society women, you’ll also hear the words courses and flux, along with silly phrases like ‘monthly visitor.’ None of them are considered ladylike to mention in company, but of course women discuss such things with one another. I should hope you could come to me with any questions of that nature.”

“Aye, miss.” She picked up another piece of metal and screwed it to the growing pile on the table in front of her, which still bore no resemblance to a dog. “Mrs. Miller—she ran the teashop I lived above in Wapping—she explained things to me when it first happened. I used to fix things for her, and her friends, for food and a room. She wouldn’t let me share my room with Tommy, and she had to explain why. I didn’t believe her at first; it seemed so silly.”

“Yes, it does at first, doesn’t it?” Caroline couldn’t remember not knowing the differences between boys and girls, but she’d been raised on a country estate, spending much of her life watching the farm animals. “How old did you say you were when your father died?”

“Nine. He had consumption. We were in London when he died, so in London I stayed. If Tommy hadn’t found me, I’d have starved to death that first month. He taught me…”

“To steal? You’ll hear no complaint from me about doing what you must in order to survive.”

“Yes, miss. Then he showed me where people threw out their broken machines. I started taking bits and putting new ones together. Soon enough, I made more selling those than I could picking pockets.”

“Didn’t you have any family to help when your father died? What about your mother?”

“Mum died when I was born,” the girl replied. “She had nobody. My da’ was a toff, but they threw him out when he married a serving girl. So he traveled, inventing things and fixing them wherever he went.”

The story wasn’t that different from Caroline’s own, except she’d been older when her mother had been disowned. And her mother hadn’t been strong enough to earn a living, so the onus had fallen on Caroline to support them both.

There but for the grace of God… Except she wasn’t sure that God or any deity, for that matter, had anything to do with it.

“Tomorrow, I’d appreciate it if you’d put on a dress when we go outside the house,” Caroline suggested gently. “Actually, that’s something I forgot to ask Sir Merrick about. I’m certain he’ll want to make sure you all have sufficient wardrobes.”

Wink grimaced. “Aye. The dressmaker was here, though she left in a hurry. Then Miss Dorothy marched us one by one off to the shops to buy ready-made. I’ve a frock or two, if I must. With pinafores.” She said the last word as though it was a curse.

Caroline didn’t even try to smother her laugh. “Fifteen is a difficult age, isn’t it? Not quite a girl, not quite a woman. When do you turn sixteen?”

Wink had to think a moment. “Midsummer. That’s in June, right?”

“June twenty-first,” Caroline agreed. “That’s a typical age to start allowing girls to wear longer skirts and put their hair up. Perhaps we can move that up a month or two if the pinafores truly annoy you.” Birthdays, though—that would be something else that most of these children probably didn’t know. “Do you mind my asking—how did you come to be Sir Merrick’s wards?”

Ten minutes later, Caroline shook her head in wonder.

Vampyres?

This delicate-looking girl wielding a sword?

Part of Caroline’s mind wanted to scream, “Preposterous!” but another part recognized that Wink’s explanation—improbable as it was—was the only one that made any sense at all. Dear God, how was he even going to arrange the legalities of the situation? Surely one couldn’t just scoop children up off the street and claim them as his wards? Then again, he was a baronet and he worked for the Crown. Perhaps he could.

“We should both be off to bed now.” She stood and turned toward the door. “Thank you for explaining the situation.”

“You’re welcome, miss. Here, want to see a trick? Shake, George.”

The mechanical mastiff, which had been perfectly still during their conversation, lumbered to its feet and moved to sit in front of Caroline. Obediently, it lifted one paw, which accidentally grazed Caroline’s wrist, just above her glove. With a horrible creak, the clockwork dog stopped moving, one ear spinning wildly.

“Oh dear.” Caroline yanked her hand back.

“George!” Wink lunged over to her automaton pet, staring up at Caroline. “What happened?”

“You’ve told me your secrets, now here’s one of mine.” Caroline backed cautiously away from Wink’s workspace. “I seem to have a negative effect on machinery. It’s not intentional, but that sort of thing always happens when I touch anything mechanical. I can’t even carry a pocket watch, and I practically hold my breath when I’m on a train. I hope it’s not too serious.”

“No, just a broken spring. I can fix that easily enough.” Nonetheless, Wink cast a suspicious glance at Caroline.

“I’ll try to be careful around your pets, I promise. And now you know to keep them far from me. Truly, I am sorry, Wink.” She moved to the door, turning just before she left. “When you’ve finished repairing George, will you wash up and go to bed? I’ll see you in the morning.”

Her only response was a grunt as Wink set to work.

Chapter Five

A shrill scream, as if someone were being killed, invaded Caroline’s consciousness.

Instantly she was awake and out of bed, grabbing the wrapper she’d hung on the post at the end of her bed. As she reached the corridor, a second scream sounded, allowing her to pinpoint the source as the younger boys’ bedroom. She hurried across the hall and pushed open their door.

Piers stood over Jamie, shaking his shoulder. He ducked, dodging a blow from the arm with the cast. Caroline ran to the other side of the bed and grasped Jamie by his left shoulder, holding his injured arm immobile while Piers shouted Jamie’s name.

Wink, still in her coveralls, came running in from the nursery door. Seeing Caroline and Piers already by Jamie’s side, she paused to turn up the lamp before coming over to the foot of the bed. A heartbeat later, Tommy dashed through the hall door wearing nothing but a nightshirt, while Nell, in a lacy white nightgown, was close behind Wink.

Finally, the boy woke, midscream. Wide-eyed, he lay panting, coated in perspiration.

“You’re all right, Jamie. ’Twas just a dream.” Though Caroline wasn’t at all sure there was any “just” about it.

Nell sat on the side of the bed and gathered the boy into her arms, rocking him as if he were much younger, which seemed to soothe him. Caroline turned to the others and whispered, “Does this happen often?”

Wink shrugged. “Sometimes. Changes upset him, even good ones, like moving here.”

“Jamie, what was the dream about?” So often nightmares lost their power once you spoke them out loud—or wrote them in a journal. Caroline knew that from experience.

“Just an old one—things comin’ up out of the dark, hitting, biting, calling me.” He stopped to sob into his pillow.

“That’s the usual, miss,” Piers said calmly. “It don’t mean nothin’—just that ’e’s upset.”

“Sometimes, in his dreams, he sees things,” Tommy added in a low voice. “I don’t know how, but sometimes he sees things that are going to happen—or might be going to happen. Those dreams are the worst, because they frighten him even after he’s awake.”

Now Jamie looked up at Caroline in horror. “Please don’t throw me out, miss. I’m not bad, really, I’m not.”

Caroline sat down on the other side of him from Nell and stroked his clammy, sweat-soaked back. “Do you really think Sir Merrick is so lily-livered that he’d toss you aside because of a dream?”

The little boy only cried harder.

“His own family did,” Wink noted sadly. “He told his mum not to go out one morning but she did anyway and was killed by a footpad. When his aunt and uncle heard he’d warned her, they called him the spawn of Satan and threw him out on the streets.”

Caroline lifted him into her arms and held him tightly. “Rest assured, Jamie, that is not going to happen here. Now let’s get you into a dry nightshirt and put some fresh sheets on the bed, shall we?” She glanced at the older children. “I imagine one of you has discovered the whereabouts of the linen cupboard.”

“I have.” Tommy stood and left the room.

“Come along, Jamie. Piers, if you could find him another nightshirt while the girls strip the bed?”

The bath was between the nursery and the schoolroom, convenient enough for children and governess to share under normal circumstances, and in this case for all four children. Caroline guided the boy inside and washed his face and hands, then ducked out and allowed Piers to help Jamie change, since he couldn’t manage by himself with the cast. Meanwhile, she warmed some milk on the small gas plate in the pantry off the schoolroom and poured six glasses, which she took with her on a tray back to the boys’ bedroom. Now she understood why the girls had wanted to be in the nursery suite. It would give them a feeling of closeness and accessibility when they needed one another, though honestly the governess’s bedroom was probably further away than Caroline’s room across the hall.

“I thought we could all use this.” Caroline smiled when Tommy, after being elbowed by Wink, jumped up to take the tray from Caroline’s hands. “It’s been an eventful day for everyone, and this will help us get some rest.”

Sleep eluded her, though, even after she was back in her decadently comfortable bed. What was she to do with these waifs, who fought vampyres, saw ghosts and had dreams of the future, along with heavens knew what else? They needed someone—that was a certainty, but Caroline wasn’t at all sure she was up to the task. Teaching these urchins to be gentlemen and ladies was a monumental undertaking, even without considering their special abilities.

Then there was her employer. He’d been utterly polite—had never even touched her other than to shake her hand, and yet something about him made her stomach quiver—something that had never happened with another man. Her instinct for self-preservation was urging her to run from this odd house full of odd people.

And yet—

No place she’d ever worked had been more welcoming. Even the stones in the walls seemed somehow warm and accepting. Here, she thought, was a place where it might not matter, that she, too, was a bit—well—odd. And Miss Hadrian—Miss Dorothy, rather—was an intelligent woman who appreciated that quality in others, and a keen proponent of workers’ rights. Caroline would never be mistreated here. She could avoid the dark and brooding baronet, and simply do her job.

Resolutely, she ignored the pang of disappointment she couldn’t quite suppress at that thought, then rolled over and began counting sheep. Strangely, this time the sheep seemed to be clockwork ones.

The next few days settled into some sort of awkward routine, punctuated by episodes of utter chaos, which gradually became fewer and further apart. Lessons were progressing—not necessarily smoothly but progressing nonetheless. Though lacking formal education, the children were clearly all bright and eager to learn anything they considered interesting or useful. Subjects they found dull were quite another matter, though Caroline relished the challenge of engaging their interest.

On her first full day, Caroline had met with the housekeeper, Mrs. Granger, and arranged to have Sally Kendall installed as a permanent nursery maid. It turned out the girl was the eldest of eight, so she knew a little something about managing a horde. Now at least, there’d be someone in charge of the nursery on Caroline’s half-days, or to mind the others if Caroline had to take one or two off for some errand or another.

Mrs. Granger had proved to be a stern and disapproving woman, but she was devoted to Sir Merrick and Miss Dorothy, and determined that if they wanted to keep these orphans, keep them they would. Mountjoy the butler looked grim with his droopy face and sad eyes, but Caroline was already beginning to suspect a warm heart lurked beneath his air of haughty superiority. Cook had been won over by Jamie’s drawing of flowers in her kitchen garden, so the nursery would continue to be well fed.

Though Caroline had had little contact with any of the other servants, she was satisfied that she’d established a functional working relationship within the household. They usually had luncheon with Miss Dorothy, who also dropped by the nursery on a daily basis to visit the children and chat with Caroline. It was lovely, having an intelligent adult to talk to for a while each day. Sir Merrick, she had barely seen at all, which suited her just fine.

Her fourth morning at Hadrian House was brisk, with ominous dark clouds gathering in the skies that could forebode either snow or sleet. Still, Caroline determined that her charges were in sore need of an excursion, so off to the park it was, though instead of walking several blocks to Hyde Park, as they had for the previous few days, she settled for the smaller confines of St. James Square, which was just around the corner, allowing for a hasty retreat if the skies opened up. Each of the females had brought a sturdy umbrella, though Wink and Nell had dropped theirs to join in a game of pseudo-cricket with the boys. It was fascinating to watch them invent the game as they went. They had the bat and ball, but none of them knew the rules.

Ah well, at least they were getting some exercise and both girls were wearing skirts. It was a beginning. When they urged Caroline to join in the game, she shook her head resolutely and sat on a bench like a proper governess—even when her toes started itching. Since they were the only group bold enough to brave the weather, retaining her staid demeanor was even more difficult.

Jamie, with his broken arm, was not allowed to bat or bowl and quickly grew restless with his assigned task of chasing down the ball when it went over the heads of the others. He found an oak tree with a split trunk and shimmied up into the crotch before Caroline spotted him and darted over.

“Seamus McCann, you come down right now. It’s just about to—” lightning flashed, thunder cracked and the freezing rain began in a torrent, “—rain.”

Jamie wobbled and Caroline caught him by the back of his shirt and steadied him. When had he removed his warm coat and cap? Sleet stung Caroline’s cheeks. “Jamie, come on.”

This time, he obediently slid down into her arms.

“Get your things.” She set him on the ground and turned to see the others scurrying to re-don their outerwear. Wink had opened one umbrella and pulled Piers under it, while Tommy collected the bat and ball. Nell and Jamie shared the other umbrella and Caroline beckoned Tommy under hers. They reached the edge of the square before a gust of wind turned all three brollies inside out.

“Hurry.” Caroline checked for traffic, then urged them all across the street. Before they reached the middle, though, a closed coach raced around the corner at breakneck speed, bearing down on them.

The broken umbrellas and sporting goods were dropped as they all ran from the oncoming coach. Piers had been lagging a little, but now Tommy grabbed the younger boy and pulled him bodily out of the road, just as the carriage bolted past, splattering mud on Caroline’s clothing and even her face—it had been that close. Wet, cold and now terrified, they huddled next to the corner house catching their breath.

“Stubble propriety,” Caroline said through her chattering teeth. “There are no more crossings. Just run.” Lifting her skirts, she followed her own advice, her slick-soled boots and multiple petticoats assuring she was behind even Piers. Down one block and around a corner they ran, then up the marble steps to the front door of Hadrian House, where Tommy’s fist pounded, demanding entry. Johnson opened the door immediately, barely raising an eyebrow at the wet and muddy horde that tumbled in. When Caroline skidded into the foyer, the burly servant closed the door behind her and did his best to suppress a grin.

“Ask Sally to bring some hot chocolate up to the nursery, please.” At least that’s what she meant to say. Due to the cold, there was a good bit of stuttering involved. Caroline and Johnson both bent to help the children remove their sodden coats.

“What is the meaning of this debacle?” The thin, nasal voice was educated, but it was not Sir Merrick’s booming baritone.

Caroline looked up sharply. “I’d say the circumstances speak for themselves. Not, sir, that it’s any of your concern.” The speaker was of good height and had once, perhaps, been strongly built, though now he was quite lean, with a deeply lined face and a ring of salt-and-pepper hair surrounding a bald pate. Sir Merrick stood beside him, his face an expressionless mask.

“Soiled urchins should use the kitchen door, if they must be allowed to enter a house at all.” The older man thumped his brass-tipped walking stick on the carpet for emphasis.

“The front was closer.” Caroline finished stripping off Piers’s coat and handed it off to Johnson. Irritation was warming her rapidly. “And as at least two of these children have health issues, I was inclined to worry more about them than about the carpets. Now, Sir Merrick, if you please, we’ll be off to change into dry garments.”

Sir Merrick nodded at the children. “I need to speak with Tommy and Miss Bristol. The rest of you run along.”

They obeyed him instantly, dashing up the stairs in a clatter. Caroline handed her own serviceable cape to Johnson and stood rigidly, her features schooled into what she hoped was a polite expression. Beside her, Tommy stood, almost preternaturally still, though she could sense him watching, aware of every motion around him. This child was also gifted, though she’d yet to discover in what way.

“Miss Bristol, Tom, allow me to present Mr. Edwin Berry, who is to be Tom’s tutor. Edwin, this is Miss Caroline Bristol, the governess for my younger wards. Let me also present your new charge, Master Thomas Parker. I assure you, they do not make a habit of tracking mud and rainwater through my front door.”

Mr. Berry did not say a word in greeting, just stared rather rudely.

Caroline dipped her head to her employer. “Certainly not. The storm came up suddenly, and there was an incident with a reckless driver that frightened the children. Good day to you, Sir Merrick, Mr. Berry. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll go see to my charges as well as to my own repairs.” At Sir Merrick’s nod, she marched toward the stairs, but was unable to resist lingering to watch for just a moment.

“Good afternoon, sir.” Tommy held out his hand, which the tutor conspicuously ignored.

Instead, he gave Tommy a glare. “Please clean yourself up as best as possible, then meet me in the library in fifteen minutes. I warn you, young man, tardiness shall not be tolerated.” With a brief bow to Merrick, he turned on his heel and stalked away.

“He’ll get better with time, lad,” Merrick muttered to Tommy, clapping the boy on the shoulder. “For now, best to do as he says.” Then he too, disappeared, back into his study, leaving a somber Tommy to follow Caroline up to their rooms.

Just like that, the semblance of ease Caroline had achieved with the children was gone.

Edwin Berry was, to put it bluntly, an ass.

Caroline wanted little more than to see the snooty bastard’s balding head on a shining silver platter. How dare he criticize her management of the children? According to the toplofty Mr. Berry, nothing Caroline was doing with her charges was up to snuff. They were too loud, too unruly, and she was obviously made of the same inferior stuff. In just two days, the dreadful man had terrorized Jamie, Piers and Nell, made Wink withdraw into her machines, and turned Tommy into a somber ghost who had apparently been told to stay as far from the others as possible.

The one and only good thing that had come from his highness’s occupation was that even the disapproving Mrs. Granger had thawed slightly toward Caroline and the children. Mr. Berry had criticized her menus one too many times it seemed, so now the housekeeper, who still crossed herself whenever she was in the children’s presence, had become a reluctant ally against the new arrival.

Lessons without their ringleader had become particularly difficult. Wink was angry, Piers jealous and Nell, listless. Jamie simply sulked. Caroline had never been prone to headaches before, but she was rapidly developing the tendency.

“Jamie.” She moved around the table to stand beside him. “You must master your sums. This is not a choice, but a requirement. I know you’re capable, but you need to apply yourself to the equations for more than two minutes at a time. There will be no games until after you complete your work.”

“Wanna go outside.” For the third day in a row, the freezing rain had curtailed their outing, and all of them, even Caroline, were feeling restless.

“Finish your lessons,” she instructed, rather more sharply than she’d have liked. “And perhaps after luncheon, we’ll find some way to take some exercise.”

“Yes, Miss Caro.” Yet another thing Mr. Berry had loudly disapproved of was the rapid slide into informality that had occurred in the household. Uptight prig. No one had called her Caro since her mother died, and Caroline found she liked it very much indeed.

She managed to keep control over them for another hour until their meal was served, with Miss Dorothy as a special guest. Since the advent of Mr. Berry, the children had not been invited to dine with the family. Caroline approached Dorothy about her concerns and received permission to use the ballroom for some games. “After all,” Dorothy said, “it’s not like we ever use it for entertaining.”

Caroline had noticed. While Sir Merrick and Dorothy both went out on a regular basis, there never seemed to be gatherings here at Hadrian House. While it was a trifle unexpected, it suited Caroline fine, and besides, it was truly none of her business. With a smile of relief, she accepted the offer.

Shortly thereafter, Caroline led her jubilant students down to the ballroom. The vast space with its shining parquet floor, gilt paneling and soaring ceiling was nearly empty of furnishings, just a few chairs shrouded in dust sheets clustered in the corners and on a musicians’ dais at one end. Gathering her students into a circle in the center of the room, Caroline pulled an oversized handkerchief from her pocket and initiated a game of Blindman’s Bluff. Corner boundaries to the field of play were marked with their discarded shoes. Within minutes, their grudges were forgotten as they darted and laughed, sliding in their stocking feet on the slick floor. Even Caroline was convinced to take a turn, and she laughed along with the children as she twisted and lunged, trying to find them by their giggles.

“Over here, miss,” Jamie called from some distance to Caroline’s left.

“No, over here.” That was Wink, who was so graceful, Caroline couldn’t have heard her steps even if she’d had shoes on.

“But I’m over here,” Nell’s musical voice called out.

Piers whistled as he ran from one side of Caroline to the other.

Caroline spun, reaching for Piers, and slipped, landing on her fanny in a froth of petticoats. Her laughter must have convinced the children she was unharmed, so instead of coming to her aid, they simply stopped moving and giggled as well.

“What is the meaning of this?” The sharp rap of a brass-tipped ebony stick on the floor instantly dried up all the laughter in the room.

Caroline slowly peeled the blindfold from her face and turned toward the sound of Mr. Berry’s outraged voice. The tutor and Tommy stood at the far end of the room, dressed in fencing gear. She dipped her head as she rose somewhat clumsily to her feet, her skirts tangling around her ankles. “Good afternoon, gentlemen. Would you care to join our game?”

“We most certainly would not.” Berry looked down his pointed nose, which wriggled, making him look remarkably like an irritated badger. “Please vacate this room at once. Master Thomas must practice his swordsmanship.”

“Swords?” The hopeful cry went up from all of them, particularly Wink and Jamie. A sinking feeling filled the pit of Caroline’s stomach as she remembered that all of these children were experienced in combat, and had, in fact, defeated monsters, both alive and undead.

“We want to practice too,” Wink called, running over to Tommy with the others on her heels.

“Yes, please,” Piers chimed in. “It’s been forever since we’ve gotten to do any fighting. We’re like to forget how.”

With his good hand, Jamie reached for one of the epees Tommy carried. Nell just stared wide-eyed at Tommy.

“Leave this room at once.” Crack!

The hard wooden cane smacked down on Jamie’s hand.

The lad howled and pulled back, shoving his fingers into his mouth, which only partially muffled his cries.

Tommy dropped the practice swords and turned on his tutor while Wink raised her arm for a punch, but checked her swing at the last moment.

“Mr. Berry!” Caroline rushed forward and gathered Jamie close to her hip. “Kindly control your temper, sir. There is no call for that kind of behavior.” To keep herself from striking the man, she knelt beside Jamie and eased his hand from his mouth. “Come, love, let me see your fingers.” She studied them carefully, but could detect no broken bones or swelling, though the poor boy would undoubtedly be bruised.

“You’ve been told to leave. Now, be gone, before I report this outrage to Sir Merrick.” The tutor sniffed loudly. “Master Thomas, you shall do an extra page of Latin conjugations as punishment for mishandling the fencing equipment.”

“Rest assured, you may report whatever you like,” Caroline said. Tommy ignored his tutor to reach out a hand and assist her to her feet, before he bent to retrieve the fallen epees. “I shall be making a report of my own. And Mr. Berry? I’ve a little warning for you. If you ever, ever, lay hand or stick on one of my charges in the future? I will personally deal you three blows for every one you land on a child. And I will be sure to use a large, heavy object when I do so.”

His already-erect spine stiffened even further. “Miss Bristol,” he began with a sneer, “I sincerely doubt you have the physical capability to do me an injury. Furthermore, it is clear you are also lacking in mental capacity, even more so than most of your sex. I shall certainly report this to Sir Merrick, if only to prevent you from causing further harm to his wards.”

The entire room took on a red sheen as Caroline ground her teeth and clenched her fists to keep from lunging at the man. Instead, she swallowed hard and looked at Tommy, who’d been intently studying the ground. “Please visit us in the nursery now and then, Tommy. Your family misses you.” Ignoring Berry, she turned and marched from the room, the children behind her. It was only when they reached the stairs that she remembered they’d left their shoes behind.

Like a coward, she sent Johnson to fetch them while she and the children scurried back to the safety of the nursery.

Merrick sighed when Edwin Berry marched into his study on a rainy afternoon. In the two days the man had been in residence, he’d managed to find innumerable flaws in the household, each of which seemed to require Merrick’s direct involvement. While Merrick avoided as much of the domestic discord as he could, Edwin had no qualms about barging in with his litany of complaints about this unorthodox situation.

“The governess must go.” The tutor braced both hands on Merrick’s desk and leaned forward, fire blazing in his pale blue eyes. “At once.”

“What did she do this time, Edwin?” The older man’s fervent dislike of Miss Bristol had been evident from the beginning, and frankly, Merrick was getting tired of it. Why couldn’t the two of them simply do their jobs without involving him? He leaned forward, forcing Edwin back so he no longer loomed.

“She threatened me with violence.” Edwin shuddered as he obeyed Merrick’s gesture and took a seat in the single armchair facing the desk. “Frankly, I believe the woman is not quite sane. She maintains no control whatsoever among those street urchins you rescued. Honestly, Sir Merrick, there are better places for their sort than in the home of a baronet—and a Knight of the Order at that. I could suggest a respectable orphanage.”

Merrick rubbed his temples, which were already beginning to ache—something that had never happened before the advent of his new wards. “The children stay, Edwin. And with that comes the necessity of a governess. They are actually far better behaved now than they were before Miss Bristol’s arrival. I see no reason to doubt her capability.”

“But—they represent a threat to the Order, Sir Merrick.” Edwin’s face pinched as he spat the words. Edwin’s devotion to the Knights was well known, and part of the reason this second son of one Knight and brother to a current leader of the Order was the most sought after tutor for budding members. “It’s all I can do to keep Thomas away from those ruffians and focused on his studies. And that Bristol woman is nosy. It will be impossible to keep the secret from them if you don’t send them away. Perhaps they could retire to Hadrian Hall?”

Merrick weighed the impact of Edwin’s words, which weren’t without merit. “Tommy’s one consideration for coming here was that the others, his family, so to speak, be kept beside him. I will not go back on my word, and I will not abandon a potential Knight.” He leaned back in his chair and fiddled with the chain of his pocket watch. “Answer me this. In the households of Knights with multiple children—yours for example—are the other children kept in the dark about the Order, or are they raised with the same knowledge as the ones who show true potential?” Since Edwin himself obviously knew about the Order, the question was purely rhetorical.

“This situation is hardly the same.” Edwin drummed his fingers on one bony knee. “You cannot count on the discretion of a group of street rats.”

“Gifted street rats, by the by. Nearly all of them.” Merrick stopped toying with the chain and laid his hands flat on the table. “I’m convinced they may all be of use to the Order one of these days. So tell me why Miss Bristol felt the need to threaten violence? I thought you were studiously avoiding one another.”

“She refused to vacate the ballroom when it was time for Thomas’s fencing lesson. One of those brats had the audacity to reach for one of the weapons. I merely knocked his hand away, and she erupted. Honestly, you’d think I’d maimed the child.”

The short hairs at the back of Merrick’s neck stood on end. “I see. Edwin, did I not specify when you were hired that there was to be no corporal punishment whatsoever?”

The tutor shrugged. “Absurd though the idea is, Sir Merrick, you did. And I have found additional lessons to be an adequate deterrent for young Thomas.”

“And yet you took it upon yourself to lay hands on one of the younger children, one who is not even under your aegis?” Oh, this was not good. No wonder Miss Bristol had threatened to roast the man’s balls. And of course they’d all wanted to use the swords—up until a week or two ago, daily combat had been part of their lives. Merrick could have kicked himself for not realizing they’d be desperate to practice.

Again, Edwin shrugged. “As I said, I just knocked his hand away from the epee. The boy could have done himself or one of the others far greater damage if he’d gotten his hands on the weapon.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Edwin.” With a sigh, Merrick recounted the story behind his discovery of the children and his unexpected guardianship, including his unorthodox vow that none of them would be hit.

Edwin listened, his thin lips drawn into a disapproving frown. “I see. Very well, I will refrain from physical contact. Still, you must really find a more appropriate governess.”

“We shall see.” Dorothy would have his head in a basket if he tried. “Meanwhile, I implore you to make an effort to either get along or avoid them. It is not unreasonable for children to play in the ballroom on a rainy day.”

“I suppose not.” It was a huge concession from Edwin, and Merrick knew it was the best he was going to get. “However, you must make her aware that some things, such as swords, are entirely off limits.”

“On the contrary, Edwin. I’ve just told you these children lived on the streets fighting vampyres. I wish you to include each of them in your sparring matches. I think you’ll find it very rewarding.”

Edwin glared. “Fine. If I must, I shall include the two younger boys in the lessons on Tuesdays and Thursdays. They may be delivered to the ballroom, properly clad, at eleven.”

“And the girls.” Merrick suppressed a grin at the other man’s horror. Ah, his suffragist aunt would be proud of him now.

“No.” The single syllable was clipped and firm. “Absolutely not.”

A cough from the doorway indicated Dorothy’s presence. “Let him go, Merrick, he’d only hamper their skills. I’ll tutor the girls myself. We shall have the ballroom and the epees on Mondays and Wednesdays, then. Capital.” With a triumphant smile, she strode into the room and waved away the tutor. “Run along, now, Edwin. My nephew and I have business to discuss.”

“Lord, what a toad.” When Edwin fled, Dorothy lowered herself into his vacated chair and rolled her eyes. “I suppose you’ve begun inquiries into Tommy’s parentage? His father was almost certainly a Knight.”

“Of course.” The power was most frequently passed down from father to son, though a few historical incidences of ‘new’ families had occurred. Well, there was also the fact that some daughters were clearly gifted as well, though the Order tried to claim otherwise, much to Dorothy’s disgust. The Knights’ distrust of gifted females went way, way back, to the original Morgan le Fay. Everyone in England knew how much trouble that woman had caused—even if most of them believed it was all no more than a legend. “I suspect Malcolm Devere. I know he was sowing his wild oats in London some sixteen years ago, and the look around the eyes is about right.”

Dorothy nodded. “I think you may be correct. You should call on old Sir Andrew as soon as possible. Rumor has it his health is precarious.” The Deveres, like the Hadrians, were among the direct descendants of King Arthur’s Knights, the founding members of the Order. Sir Andrew had outlived his only son, and the baronetcy was expected to become extinct upon the old man’s death. While a bastard child couldn’t inherit the title, Sir Andrew might be able to acknowledge Tommy and at least leave the boy his family fortunes, which weren’t inconsiderable.

Merrick made a note on his desk blotter. “I will, as soon as I can find time to run up to Oxfordshire. Meanwhile, why do I suspect you wanted more from me than fencing lessons for the girls?”

“Because you know me so well, of course.” She smiled brightly. “I also want Winifred and Caroline to join us for supper. She’s the same age as Tommy, so should be treated accordingly.”

Ah. That had been one of Edwin’s stipulations earlier in the day. Now that he’d ascertained Tommy’s manners were acceptable, Edwin had decided that tutor and pupil would join Merrick and Dorothy for meals. Merrick considered a moment, but knew there was no point in arguing with his aunt over whether girls and boys should be dealt with on an equal basis. He preferred to keep his anatomy intact. “You’re correct, of course. I find no objection to that.” Except for his personal reluctance to be anywhere near the elusively attractive governess. “If Miss Bristol doesn’t mind, and if someone else can be found to keep Piers, Jamie and Nell under control, then by all means, invite them.”

“Sally is doing fine with the horde—and her next-oldest sister has applied to become an assistant nursery maid. I think it would behoove us to accept her.”

His staff was growing like a bread mold. Merrick ought to have been terrified, but instead he nodded. “As you wish. If you’ll please inform Miss Bristol?” With that, he turned back to his ledgers and waited until his aunt had left the room.

Chapter Six

Miss Bristol marched into his study shortly before dinner, clad in another of her hideous frocks, this one more or less designed for evening, in a rather dingy slate blue. Her feathers appeared to be so distinctly ruffled as to be virtually upright. Merrick was unsurprised. He’d been expecting her for the last two days, but after Edwin’s visit, he knew for a fact she’d be coming to him today.

“I want that man gone,” she said without preamble after seating herself in the chair in front of his desk. “His abuse of the children is intolerable. Thanks to your Mr. Berry, Jamie, who already has a broken left arm, is unable to use any of the fingers on his right hand this evening.”

“What?” Now she’d caught him by surprise. Berry’s tirade this afternoon hadn’t included any injuries. Surely Jamie hadn’t cut himself on a practice sword.

“The man bashed his hand with that ridiculous walking stick and nearly broke several of Jamie’s knuckles. They’re all swollen and bruised.”

“Son of a bitch.” Merrick looked up and winced. “Your pardon, Miss Bristol. Should I send someone for the surgeon?”

She shook her head, ignoring his outburst with a wave of her hand. “They’re not broken, only bruised. I will be honest with you, however. Next time that man strikes a child, he’ll find someone else can hit as well. And I’ll use something heavier than a walking stick.”

“So noted, Miss Bristol. I’ve already informed Mr. Berry that it isn’t to happen again. While he disagrees with your methods of child rearing, he has conceded to my wishes on the matter.” Merrick suppressed a smile. Underneath her mousy clothing, the governess was a spirited woman—something he rather wished he hadn’t noticed, along with her enticing scent or the lovely curves she tried to hide beneath her ugly gowns. He was still convinced there was something mystical about her. Although she seemed unaware of any particular talents, Merrick would still swear she was gifted in some way or another. Was she hiding something, or did she truly not know?

“Thank you, Sir Merrick. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll go fetch Wink for supper.” She bustled away without waiting for his approval.

Merrick rubbed his temples again then walked over to a bookshelf. The press of a hidden button rolled back a carved panel, revealing the felt-lined recess. He chose a decanter, popped two chunks of ice from the clockwork freezer bucket into a tumbler and poured himself a drink. Had it really been less than two weeks ago that his home had been a quiet, well-run sanctuary?

Caroline would have much rather stayed upstairs and supervised the nursery supper than be forced to sit across from Mr. Berry. Since there were only six of them, Dorothy had opted for one of the smaller family dining rooms. To her discomfort, Caroline was seated at Sir Merrick’s right. Rather than alternate genders in the seating arrangement, each pupil had been placed beside his or her teacher, meaning Dorothy, at the foot of the table, was flanked by Tommy and Wink.

“So, have you heard of any more vampyres working together?” Wink hadn’t seen her ersatz guardian in days, so her question was natural, though Caroline winced at the outraged expression on Berry’s face.

“We do not discuss such things in public.” He glared at Wink before turning to Sir Merrick. “I told you this wasn’t appropriate.”

“A quiet family dinner is hardly public.” Dorothy looked down her nose at the tutor, making Caroline want to cheer. “And the existence of the undead isn’t a state secret. Winifred has a valid question, Merrick. I too would like to hear the answer.”

Sir Merrick sighed. “I’ve made inquiries. A few other…acquaintances have reported similar sightings. It’s most troublesome.”

His expression was so grim Caroline nearly reached her hand over to his to comfort him. Instead, she diverted the motion and lifted her wine glass to her lips. When his dark eyes caught hers, her hand shook, nearly splashing burgundy on the pristine tablecloth.

She cleared her throat and prayed she wasn’t blushing. “If the weather is fine tomorrow, I’d thought to visit the Zoological Gardens at Regent’s Park. You said, Sir Merrick, that there is a carriage we can use for outings?”

“Of course.” He nodded crisply then gazed down at his roast pheasant. “That sounds like a perfectly reasonable educational venture. Perhaps, Edwin, you and Tom may wish to escort them?”

“I think not.” The tutor’s nose wrinkled and twitched, once again reminding Caroline of a badger. “If Thomas is to be ready for university in two, or even three years’ time, then he must apply himself to his classical education.”

Tommy’s face, which had lit up at the prospect, fell. “Yes, Mr. Berry.”

Caroline’s fingers twitched to pick up her knife and hurl it at him, but she simply said, “That’s too bad. Perhaps another time.”

“So tell us Miss Bristol, where were you educated?” Berry lifted one thin lip into a sneer. “Boarding school, one would hope?”

“No, actually I was educated at home, by a succession of governesses and tutors, like many young women.” She turned her face away from him and toward her employer. “Which reminds me, Nell’s musical talent far exceeds my own. Perhaps a vocal instructor can be arranged once a week? And if you’ve any advanced texts on engineering, may we borrow those? Wink has quite outstripped those in the schoolroom.”

“Of course. The library is at your disposal—provided you can keep them from eating and reading simultaneously. Peppermint sticks leave quite a mess.”

“Shouldn’t the girl be learning more feminine skills? Watercolors, perhaps, or embroidery?” Berry sniffed. “Nothing good can come of allowing women into the masculine professions.”

Caroline was slightly shocked to realize the snort she’d heard hadn’t come from her, but from Dorothy. “One more remark like that at my table, Edwin, and you’re out on your ear. I know you’re the best the Order has to offer, but you’ll keep a civil tongue in your head, and you will not indoctrinate Merrick’s wards with your ridiculous views.”

“Aunt!”

“Miss Hadrian!”

Both men shouted at once.

Dorothy shook her head. “Give it up, gentlemen. It’s absurd to imagine the children can keep secrets from one another as well as from an astute governess. Winifred, Caroline, you should know that Merrick and Edwin are both employed by the Crown, working for a secret organization that deals with criminals of both mortal and supernatural natures. Tommy, having the innate abilities required, is being groomed to join that organization when he’s older. I trust I can count on both of you to insure that this information remains private, correct?”

“Of course.” Caroline couldn’t say she was truly shocked. From bits she’d learned about how Merrick had come to take in the children, she’d assumed something of the sort.

Wink nodded. “I won’t say a word—neither will the others. Pardon me saying so, Miss Dorothy, but in Wapping, you learn to keep your mouth closed. You’ve no worries on that score, not from us.”

“I didn’t think so,” Sir Merrick said. “But well put, Winifred. So shall your trip to the zoo provide any ideas for more of your clockwork pets? Does our household require a lion, or perhaps even a griffin or dragon to go with your remarkable watchdog?”

Wink laughed, once again looking and sounding like a normal young girl. “Would you like a pet for Christmas, Sir Merrick? I can quite see you with a panther in a dark, oil-rubbed bronze.”

“Excellent choice, dear.” Dorothy beamed at the girl. “Now what for Miss Caro, do you think? A kitten? A Pekinese?”

Caroline blushed and darted a dagger glance at Mr. Berry. “Since we are working on embroidery as well as other skills, I think I’d prefer a nice handkerchief, thank you.”

The footmen cleared the table of their dishes and set what appeared to be a large rotating epergne in the center of the table, full of fruit, nuts and cheeses. With a tap of his white-gloved finger, the head footman set the mechanism in motion. Slowly, the wheel-like device rotated, with various compartments raising and lowering in an intricate dance to offer their contents to each diner in turn.

Caroline watched, mesmerized, while each of the others made their selections, Sir Merrick accepting some sliced apples and a firm cheddar, while Dorothy opted for Stilton and pears. Each time one of the dishes was touched, the mechanism halted, allowing everyone time to serve themselves. Wink was almost too fascinated to bother with the delicacies, though eventually she felt the need to test it. Soon a small pile of nuts and fruit decorated her plate.

“You may investigate the epergne at leisure after the meal, dear.” Dorothy’s smile was wry. “I suspect you’ve chosen more than you’ll be able to eat.”

“And Miss Bristol has taken nothing at all,” Sir Merrick noted. “Is none of it to your liking?”

“I’m fine, Sir Merrick.” She didn’t want to discuss her negative effect on machines in front of her employer and the odious Mr. Berry.

“Oh—she doesn’t want to break the machine.” Wink offered Caroline her own plate. “Have some of mine, Miss Caro.”

“What does she mean, break the machine?” Sir Merrick cocked his head at Wink, while Caroline accepted a few dates and cherries from the girl’s collection.

“It seems that any time I touch something mechanical, it, well, malfunctions,” she admitted, eyes cast down on her plate.

Wink snorted. “George brushed against her arm and popped a spring in his neck. It’s awful. She even uses a regular old broom when she spills something instead of the sweeper.”

“I knew it,” Mr. Berry crowed. “I knew there was something wrong with that female. She’s a bloody sidhe!”

“Excuse me?” Caroline felt her jaw drop. “Mr. Berry, have you lost your mind? Vampyres and other monsters are one thing, but faeries? Surely those are little more than children’s stories. What utter nonsense. I’m a perfectly normal person from Somerset.” Even though she’d never known her father, her mother would have told her if he wasn’t, at the very least, a human being. Wouldn’t she?

“Not full sidhe, of course, but yes, it would explain a great deal.” Sir Merrick actually seemed to be considering the possibility. “The fair folk are known for having a negative effect on modern technology. Miss Bristol, is there a reason why you always style you hair to hide your ears?”

Slowly Caroline lifted her hand and pushed up on the lock of hair carefully secured to cover the top of her ear. Sir Merrick smiled at the tiny point on the tip she revealed. She’d always just considered it an oddity. It had never dawned on her that the slight disfigurement might have meaning.

“Oh.” Dorothy grinned. “Well, it seems you’re even better suited in this household than I’d thought. There’s no need to keep that sort of thing secret here.”

“Clearly you see she can’t be trusted.” Berry’s face had turned bright red, until Caroline feared he was about to explode. “The sidhe are notorious for their vile tricks and selfish magick.”

“Relax, Edwin, before you have an apoplexy.” Sir Merrick gave her an encouraging nod and glared at the tutor. “I doubt our Miss Bristol is more than a quarter faery, and she’s certainly shown no signs of being in league with any of them—unless they also frequent your favorite lending library, aunt?”

Dorothy laughed. “No, I don’t believe so. Though I suspect Caroline’s presence may explain why the philodendron in the library is no longer brown and wilted. Aren’t the sidhe supposed to have a healing touch on living things?”

“They are,” her nephew agreed. “Her presence may also explain why Piers’s cough has cleared up nearly completely in such a short time. And the surgeon is more than pleased with the rate of healing on young Jamie’s fractured arm.”

“Sir Merrick, I really must insist. The Order will not be pleased—”

“The Order can either go hang itself, or it can find us a better governess—equally unlikely. Somehow I doubt anyone will truly care except for a few old fuddy-duddies like yourself, Edwin.” Dorothy stared him down. “You’ve been a worried old man since we were children, but I won’t let your prejudices run my home. Is that perfectly clear?”

They’d known each other as children? This Order, whatever it was, must run deeply through the families involved.

“Sir Merrick?” Berry appealed to the head of the household.

His face set in stern lines, Sir Merrick shrugged. “I judge people on their own merits, Edwin, rather than on their ancestry. Rest assured, Miss Bristol, your position is secure.”

“Thank you, Sir Merrick.” It was only rote manners that prompted her response. Her mind was whirling with this revelation. She didn’t even believe in faeries and elves and leprechauns and such. How could she be one?

After they’d finished eating, mostly in various degrees of silence, Dorothy walked upstairs with Caroline and Wink. At the door to her small sitting room, the older woman paused.

“Winifred, I’d like to speak to Miss Caro for a bit. Can you go in and see if Sally needs any help getting the boys ready for bed?”

“Yes, Miss Dorothy.” Wink took a moment to squeeze Caroline’s hand before she left them. “I’m sorry if I caused a fuss.”

“It’s all right, Wink. You did nothing untoward.” Caroline smiled at the girl’s retreating back.

Dorothy ushered Caroline into the sitting room and nudged her down on a chair. “It really will be fine, Caroline. Your heritage makes no difference to Merrick or me. Edwin Berry will get over himself eventually.”

“It just can’t be,” Caroline said. “Surely there’s no such thing as the sidhe.”

“There is. Just as vampyres, werewolves, ghosts and other such creatures are more real than most people care to realize. Unlike vampyres and ghosts, however, faeries and werewolves are living creatures, capable of intermarrying with humans.”

Caroline simply shook her head.

“So you have difficulty with mechanical devices—we shan’t ask you to operate the sewing machine then. Can you ride on a train, or is that too much iron for your senses?”

“I do seem to be an inadvertent Luddite.” She hoped her wince didn’t show. “I have ridden on a train, but each time, I wore heavy gloves and was careful to touch as little as possible. Even so, on one trip the brakes failed on my car. We stopped with a lurch due to the cars ahead of us.”

“Well, we shall practice caution then. How about an airship?” Dorothy seemed more curious than repulsed, thank heavens.

“I’ve never tried. I shouldn’t like to put other people at risk.”

“Wise choice, my dear.” Dorothy patted Caroline’s knee. “You know, this could also account for your problems with previous employers. I suspect your father was a member of the leannan sidhe—a love faery. They’re notoriously attractive. Your poor mother probably never had a chance of resisting him. It’s a good thing members of the Order are immune to most magicks. Merrick should be entirely safe from any unnatural attraction—though I wouldn’t rule out natural ones. Faery blood or not, you’re still a lovely young woman.”

“Thank you.” Caroline was too busy assimilating the information to say anything more for a moment. Finally, one idea surfaced that made her smile. “Am I really helping Jamie and Piers heal?”

“Quite probably. And the poor philodendron. I also suspect the more you practice and learn about your abilities, the better you’ll be able to control them. They are gifts, you know—not burdens.”

“Thank you, Miss Dorothy. Your support means a great deal.”

“Good. You’ve already worked wonders with civilizing the children. I’d hate to lose you now—and so would they.”

Caroline gave her a wry grin in reply. “And I them. They worm their way right into your heart, don’t they, the little baggages?”

“They certainly do. I’d begun to despair of ever seeing children in this house again since Merrick seems so set against marriage. It’s good to have some life inside these walls.” A screech and crash echoed from the nursery and both women winced and laughed. Dorothy shook her head. “I’d best let you go deal with the mayhem. Good night, Caroline. Rest well, and know you’re very welcome at Hadrian House.”

Caroline returned the woman’s warm handclasp and hurried toward the nursery. Before she got there though, she heard Nell singing and the rest of the din ceased. Even the boys stopped whatever they were doing to listen to her lovely voice as she crooned a lullaby to her dolls.

Standing silently in the doorway to the girls’ bedroom, Caroline watched as the young girl sang a sweet tune, tucking in each doll and kissing their cheeks. The sight was so moving, Caroline had to blink back a tear. She heard someone next to her clear his throat and she turned. Tommy had come up and was watching as silently as she.

“She’s special, isn’t she, miss?” he whispered.

Caroline nodded. “She certainly is.”

“You’ll look after her—and the others, of course?”

“Naturally.”

With a smile and a nod, Tommy vanished into his own room.

The following afternoon, Merrick sat in front of his superior and explained that his governess was a part-blood sidhe, figuring it was better for him to strike first, before Edwin could spread any exaggerated rumors.

The Duke of Trowbridge listened carefully to Merrick’s words, then nodded his head, which was now snow white and thinning, instead of the shaggy silver mane Merrick remembered. His grace must be well into his seventies, but Merrick couldn’t imagine the Order under any other control, not even that of the duke’s son, the Marquess Lake, a perfectly competent man edging up on fifty, who was in charge of the Order’s office in York.

“Edwin’s a good man, and a well-qualified teacher, but I’m aware of his faults. While the Order has its reasons for distrusting the sidhe, I hardly think that applies to a part-blood governess. Particularly if you’re correct, and she had no knowledge of her bloodlines.”

“I’m quite certain she was stunned by Edwin’s revelations. I only wish I’d seen it myself, rather than having it pointed out in such a harsh manner.” Merrick had wanted to pop Edwin in the nose for making her so uncomfortable.

“Well, keep an eye on her, but I see no need to worry unduly. Now for more pressing matters. We’ve lost another Knight. Tregarth was found dead in an alley this morning, not far from his home as he was returning from meeting an informant. Something with claws had gotten to him, leaving very little blood, so we must assume vampyres.” Which meant his corpse had been beheaded as a precautionary measure.

Merrick closed his eyes for a moment. Alec Tregarth had been a friend, damn it, one of the Knights closest to Merrick’s own age.

“What concerns me most is that this is the third attack in the last month. We’ve lost Demaris, Tregarth, Safer, and if you count the attack on you in Wapping, that makes four. We haven’t had a loss on this scale since ’38.” When Merrick’s father had been killed, along with five other Knights and a good dozen allies, subduing a rogue clan of werewolves.

Tregarth, like Merrick, had been sworn into the Order early to replace his father, who’d also died in that blood-soaked Irish forest. Merrick made a mental note to send Dorothy over to see what help she could be to Alec’s widow. Hell, the man had young children, too. This was exactly the reason Merrick didn’t intend to marry until after he’d retired from field work.

“Each attack has occurred during an assignment—one that was recorded in this office. Merrick, we have to assume that someone within the Order is working with the enemy. From here on, anything I tell you remains just between the two of us. You don’t even tell Edwin or your fellow Knights.”

Merrick swallowed hard. “I understand, your grace.”

Trowbridge muttered the words of a spell, and Merrick sensed the invisible sphere that sprang into place, preventing their words from being heard more than five feet away. The duke drew in a deep breath and regarded Merrick steadily. “I believe I have uncovered the reason the undead are banding together and working with humans. A theft has occurred from a secret vault, thought to be unbreachable, deep in the bowels of the Tower of London. Magick must have been involved. The items stolen present a deadly threat, not only to the health and economy of the Empire, but to the human race as we know it.”

“You can trust me, sir.”

“I know. There are one or two others in whom I’ve the same implicit faith, but they’re out of London at the moment.”

Including his own son.

Trowbridge’s expression was grave. “I’m counting on you, son, but I want you to be careful. We can’t afford to lose you as well.”

“Yes, sir.” It was the closest either man would come to admitting they were fond of one another. Trowbridge and his son had both been close to Aldus Hadrian, Merrick’s father, and the older man was like an uncle to Merrick. “What was stolen, and how can I get it back?”

“The items taken included several bundles of punch cards for a Babbage engine.”

Merrick raised one eyebrow. “Sir? Aren’t those a trifle obsolete, if you don’t mind my asking? How could a bunch of old programming cards pose a threat to the Empire?”

Lord Babbage’s original analytical engine, perfected some ten years earlier, had changed the world, allowing for an explosion of invention and innovation unlike any other in history. While Countess Lovelace had originally used punch cards like those from jacquard looms to feed instructions into the machine, those had gone out of favor after only a few years, replaced by much smaller and easier to work with ticker-tape reels. As analytic engines grew smaller and more sophisticated, even the ticker-tapes had been replaced with copper or brass cylinders with grooves etched into the metal. Now, even some household items like the mechanical sweeper had scaled down versions of a cylinder-driven Babbage engine in their workings. So what could be so important about a pile of outdated punch cards?

“These cards contain chemical formulae that have never been fully tested,” his grace said with a heavy sigh. “But if even some of the rumors about them are true, the impact could be devastating. One bundle supposedly contains the formula for alchemy—the ability to transmute one metal to another. You can only imagine what that could do in the wrong hands.”

“Entire economies could crumble.” Wars could erupt, famine and God knew what else could come in the wake of the global financial crisis that would ensue.

“Another is an even more frightening prospect. It’s believed to be a potion that can alter the nature of vampyres. While still sensitive to sunlight, they would cease being hideous, vile-smelling beasts. Instead, they would look as they did while human, undetectable unless their fangs and claws emerged to attack.”

Horror almost clogged Merrick’s throat, but he followed this revelation to its obvious conclusion. “And since so much of London’s social activity is at night, they could literally live among us, unseen, preying at will.” The thought was enough to turn his stomach. “Why were these cards not destroyed outright?” Now Merrick knew why vampyres were working with humans—this formula could change their species forever.

Trowbridge shrugged. “You know politicians. Someone in Parliament thought it might be possible to use vampyres as a weapon one day. In their defense, the formulae are heavily coded, and can only be utilized by an analytical engine connected directly to a chemical mixing apparatus. The card set containing the code must be fed in first, then the mixing can occur, and there is no guarantee that the formulae will actually work. Unfortunately, the culprits have also stolen the cards that break the code, which were kept separately, in a secure vault in Whitehall. Now, all the villains need to do is find an old punch-card analytical engine and attach it to an automated mixing crucible. There are only a few of the old machines in existence—most in museums.”

“Or they could build their own from scratch.” Merrick wondered why the duke hadn’t mentioned that possibility. “Even I’ve seen plans for the original, in books and museum displays.”

“Yes, but what isn’t mentioned is that each of those plans is deliberately missing a few parts—ones that were only made by direct order from Lord Babbage himself. Anyone wanting to duplicate his machine had to purchase them from his company. Until other scientists replicated the concept of the machine using ticker-tapes, Lord Babbage controlled every engine in existence. Which means we have a record of every single punch-card Babbage engine in Britain. A few have been destroyed, but there are believed to be ten still in existence—one of those here in the Club.”

The Order of the Round Table’s headquarters masqueraded as a private gentlemen’s club—one so exclusive that virtually every member was a descendant of one of the founders. There were even rooms here for those Knights who didn’t maintain a townhouse.

“So in order to use the cards, our thief must steal or replicate one of these existing machines.”

“Correct. Your first task will be to ascertain that each of them is still where it’s supposed to be. I can vouch for the one here. I’ve put a personal protection spell around it—not even another Knight can touch it without my knowing. I’ve also checked and warded the ones at Whitehall and at Buckingham Palace—both are intact. That leaves you with seven to check.” The duke handed Merrick a scrap of paper with seven locations listed.

“I’ll get right on that, sir. Actually, I’ll start with the ones at Cambridge and Oxford. I’ve reason to visit Sir Andrew Devere. Might as well kill two birds.”

“What do you want with Andrew?” Trowbridge lifted one bushy white eyebrow. “He can’t be involved in this. He isn’t well.”

Merrick sighed. “I believe my new ward may be his grandson. There’s a strong family likeness.” The Devere clan could trace its ancestry to Sir Bedivere of Arthur’s court—young Tom’s heritage might be a truly noble one, even if the family title was only baronet.

“Yes, Malcolm would have been in London at about the right time,” the duke agreed. “It would be a blessing to see the Devere line continue. Don’t take the lad with you, though. Perhaps a photograph. Andrew’s heart isn’t strong. We don’t want him too excited or disappointed.”

“Of course.” Actually, Merrick should have thought of having the children photographed immediately—just in case one of them was to disappear.

“Merrick, there’s one other thing.” Trowbridge’s expression grew, if anything, even more serious. “It’s time for you to think about stepping up to a leadership role within the Order. I can’t afford to pull Jasper in from York right now, and since Lord Blackthorne retired, I really don’t have a right hand here in the office.”

James Gavin, Earl Blackthorne, was second only to Trowbridge in the Order. Maimed in the same battle that had killed Merrick’s father, the older man had continued with the Order in an administrative capacity until recently, when he’d retired to his estate in Kent. Blackthorne’s only son lacked the innate power of a Knight, and though he worked here in the offices, Merrick knew the duke had no intention of promoting Francis Gavin to fill his father’s shoes.

“I’ll have to think about that, sir.” Merrick hadn’t planned to take on a more command-oriented role. Perhaps, though, it was something he should consider—at least for the future, now that he had wards depending upon him.

He stood, bid his superior farewell, and accepted his hat and greatcoat from the butler, who had been here for as long as Merrick could remember. With far too much on his mind, he climbed into his coach and made his way through the rainy streets, homeward.

Chapter Seven

Another day of icy rain postponed their trip to the zoo, much to everyone’s disappointment. Even Caroline chafed at another day spent indoors. Dorothy had taken Wink and Nell to be properly outfitted for their lessons in fencing. Jamie and Piers were playing a game up in the nursery. So Caroline left Sally to mind them while she slipped down to the library for something to read. She’d just picked one of Sir Walter Scott’s novels and stepped out into the corridor when the loud clatter of the brass knocker vibrated the front door. Caroline watched, book in hand, as Mountjoy opened the door to a dapper young man in a gray pinstriped suit, with neatly groomed dark auburn hair and pale blue eyes.

“No one is at home, Mr. MacKay. May I take your card?”

The visitor ignored the butler and stepped inside. Those eyes twinkled at Caroline, his smile warm and friendly. The slight crinkles around them showed he was a little older than she’d thought at first—perhaps a year or two older than her.

“Who is this? Surely Merrick isn’t hiding away some lovely young relative and depriving the rest of us of her company?”

Caroline curtseyed. “I’m afraid Sir Merrick and Miss Hadrian are both away. Perhaps I can convey a message?” Bearing in mind last night’s discussion of keeping things in confidence, Caroline wasn’t about to offer up any additional information to this stranger, no matter how pleasant he seemed.

“Oh, I’ll wait.” He handed his top hat and walking stick to an affronted Mountjoy, winking at Caroline as he did. He strolled forward and held out his hand, bowing over Caroline’s. “I’m sure this lovely young lady will bear me company. Gideon MacKay, an old, old friend of the family. We’ll take tea in the drawing room, Monty old chap.”

Monty? Caroline wondered for a moment if the stuffy butler was going to behead Mr. MacKay with his own dragon-topped walking stick.

“I’m sorry, Mr. MacKay, but I’m not a guest. I’m employed here, and I really should get back to my duties.” She pulled her hand away and stepped slowly backward, toward the stairs.

“Ah, you must be the governess. Mother told me Merrick had inherited some orphans from some distant relation or family retainer. She’s quite anxious to meet them.”

So that’s the story her employer had put out among his acquaintances. It would serve well enough.

He took a few steps down the hall and held out his hand again. “Please? I hate to wait alone. Won’t you come along and tell me all about yourself, Miss…”

“Bristol,” she replied with automatic courtesy. It was tempting, though, to spend some time chatting with such a pleasant young man who showed no signs of leaping at her. “But I really should return to the nursery, Mr. MacKay. I’m sure Miss Hadrian or Sir Merrick will be along shortly.”

“Nonsense. They could be hours. Meanwhile, I’ll have the advantage of a lovely young lady to chat with. I promise to be on my best behavior. My mother is a good friend of Dorothy’s and together they’d have my head if I misbehaved.” His flattery sounded so sincere that she was charmed, despite knowing better. “So where do you come from, Miss Bristol? Up near Hadrian Hall?”

“No, I’m from Somerset.” Her county of origin was all she’d ever admit. Any more than that, and people would begin to ask questions. “A ridiculously small village—you’ll not have heard of it.”

Like most people, Mr. MacKay didn’t delve any deeper into her history. Once in the drawing room, he handed her into a chair near the fire and seated himself directly across from her, telling her all about the play he’d seen at Drury Lane the previous evening.

The tea cart arrived, pushed by Mountjoy himself, who hovered in the room while Caroline poured, all her early training in ladylike behavior coming back as she entertained Sir Merrick’s friend. Though her eye kept wandering to the grandfather clock in the corner as she wondered what the boys were doing, she chatted with Mr. MacKay about the weather, literature and other innocuous topics. He was charming and handsome, but Caroline didn’t feel anything like the jitters that danced in her stomach when she looked at Sir Merrick. It was a shame really—as a younger son and a newly minted solicitor, Mr. MacKay was much more accessible to a mere governess.

After little more than a half hour, Miss Dorothy returned with the two girls. After sending Nell and Wink up to the nursery with their bundles, Dorothy joined Caroline and Mr. MacKay in the drawing room.

“Gideon, welcome.” When he stood to greet her, she pressed a kiss on his cheek. “Dear, it’s been ages. Your mother didn’t mention you were coming to Town.”

“Well, I’ve taken employment in the legal branch of…the family business,” he said.

Caroline noticed the brief hesitation and wondered if his family business had anything to do with that of the Hadrians. Really, there was far more afoot with this Order than she’d realized at first.

“How wonderful. You’re staying at Glendale House, of course?” Dorothy accepted a cup of tea as she sank onto a settee near her guest.

“Actually no.” He beamed affectionately at Dorothy. “Since the post is intended to be permanent, I’ve decided to take the plunge and find a place of my own. After all, the family pile will belong to Fergus and his brood, so I’ve purchased a small house. The neighborhood isn’t quite so refined as this, but still perfectly respectable. I’m having the parents to dinner tomorrow night, in fact, if you’d care to join us.”

“Of course. Leave us the address and the time. I’ll make sure Merrick is available.” Dorothy sipped her tea and sighed. “Ah, I needed this after a shopping expedition with two young girls. Gideon, you’ll stay for supper tonight, won’t you? Merrick won’t want to miss your visit, and I don’t expect him home much before mealtime.”

“I’d love to,” he replied. His light blue eyes sparkled over at Caroline. “Will the lovely Miss Bristol be joining us?”

“I don’t think—”

“Certainly.” Dorothy’s firm tones overrode Caroline’s denial. “Along with Edwin Berry, unfortunately. And you’ll get to meet Merrick’s two oldest wards, who join us for the evening meal. While the children are a handful, they’re really a delight, right, Caroline?”

“That they are, Miss Dorothy.” Caroline set down her empty teacup and stood. “And I had better go see to them before mayhem erupts yet again. Mr. MacKay, it was truly a pleasure to meet you.”

“I’ll look forward to seeing you again shortly,” he said, rising as Caroline left. That little mark of courtesy warmed her heart toward him.

As she walked out the door of the room, she could have sworn she heard Dorothy give a wicked chuckle. Oh, heavens, what was the woman up to now? Caroline was very afraid it was matchmaking.

Getting herself ready for supper with a guest was accomplished easily enough, though Caroline took some extra pains with her hair and even put on her mother’s seed pearl earbobs. Such an invitation had almost never come during her career as a governess, but there had been one or two occasions, which was why she had two suitable dinner frocks. She was glad she’d worn the slate blue last night. Her best gown was a dark forest green, as plain as all her others, with no flounces to the skirt, long sleeves and a high neckline, but at least the color was flattering. Thinking of Mr. MacKay’s smiling charm, she even pinched her cheeks for a bit of color.

Getting Wink ready and downstairs on time proved a much more difficult task. While the girl had been delighted to wear a longer dress and put her hair up in a simple coiled plait, the younger children kept trying to interfere. They weren’t sure about this whole process, but they stood firm in their conviction that it was unfair for Wink and Tommy to see the guest while the rest of them remained confined to the nursery.

Sally’s sister Becky had joined the nursery staff the day before, making life much easier on everyone. Between them, the two maids were able to more or less corral the younger three and get them fed while Caroline assisted Wink.

“There you go.” Caroline gave one last pat to Wink’s auburn chignon and straightened the dark gold sash on her butter-yellow dress. “Wink, I know your parents moved among the gentry. Please do your best to remember those manners for Sir Merrick’s guest.” It was odd having to look up at one of her charges, but Wink was several inches taller than Caroline.

“I will, miss.” The girl gave Caroline a quick smile. “Truth be told, it’s getting easier by the day. Sometimes I wake up in my nice, soft bed, and just for a moment I think Wapping was nothing but a bad dream.”

“I wish it had been, dearest. But at least now it’s the past—and you know you’ll never be back there again.”

“Begging your pardon, Miss Caro, but how can we know that?” A world of suffering showed briefly in Wink’s wide brown eyes. “Something could happen to Sir Merrick and Miss Dorothy tomorrow, then where would we be? Right back where we started, that’s where.”

“I promise you, that won’t be the case,” Caroline said recklessly. “My own story isn’t so different, you know. My grandfather just assumed his heirs would continue to provide for my mother and me—but they didn’t, so out we went. Sir Merrick is smarter than that, and so is Miss Dorothy. They’ll make good and sure you’re taken care of if something should happen to them, and I’ll be certain to remind them of it.”

“Thank you, Miss Caro.” Wink gave her a brief hug, then reached out to smooth a lock of Caroline’s hair back over the pointy tip of her ear. “I think you were sent to be our faery godmother. That’s what those ears mean.”

“Maybe.” Caroline had never been teased about her ears before, but it felt good, like she’d finally bonded with Wink. “Just not so much for George and your other creations.”

They both chuckled as arm in arm they descended the staircase to join the others in the drawing room.

“Miss Bristol!” Mr. MacKay was the first to stand as Caroline and Wink entered, though Sir Merrick was already on his feet, leaning against the hearth. Tommy and Mr. Berry lumbered slowly out of their chairs. “And another beauty. Merrick, are you growing them on trees in the garden now?”

Sir Merrick didn’t quite growl. “Behave, Gideon. Remember they’re both under my protection.”

“Oh, never mind that surly old bear.” Dorothy shook her head at her nephew. “Gideon, this is Merrick’s ward, Miss Winifred Carter. Winifred, this is Mr. Gideon MacKay, an old friend of the family.”

To Caroline’s pride, Wink executed a perfect curtsey, her normally curious gaze demurely downcast. “Pleased to meet you, sir.”

“Likewise, Miss Carter.” With exaggerated gallantry he took her hand and kissed the air a fraction of an inch above it. “Miss Bristol.” When he took Caroline’s, however, he not only pressed his lips to her skin, he held them there for a moment longer than was absolutely polite.

It was fun to have someone flirting with her openly, as if she were a lady, rather than just trying for a quick grope behind the stairs like she was used to from her employers and their older sons. Still, even when his lips moved on her bare flesh, there was no trace of the tingle she’d felt when Sir Merrick had taken her hand while they both wore gloves. Pity, that.

To even up numbers, Dorothy had invited her friend Miss Margaret Julian, whom Caroline had met several times at the library. Miss Julian was a short, plump woman of perhaps fifty, with lively blue eyes and just a few streaks of gray in her light brown hair. Her clothing was in the first stare of fashion, cleverly designed to elevate her ordinary features to a sedate beauty. Though her father was a wealthy shipping magnate, Caroline knew Miss Julian kept herself busy managing various charitable organizations, an occupation she shared with her dear friend Dorothy.

Caroline knew Dorothy was matchmaking when in a blatant disregard for protocol, Caroline was partnered with Mr. MacKay. Miss Julian was matched with Mr. Berry, much to that gentleman’s distaste. While Dorothy and Miss Julian certainly didn’t flaunt their unusual—and unfortunately illegal—affection for one another, Mr. Berry either knew or suspected, and his disapproval was evident in his curt, almost rude remarks and pinched expression.

Mr. MacKay, on the other hand, seemed to either not notice, or not care. He flirted easily with all the ladies regardless of age. Still, he seemed to spend just a little extra time talking to Caroline, making her feel as if she genuinely belonged in this gathering.

She was still smiling when she herded Wink up the stairs, Mr. Berry and Tommy right behind them.

After a sound night of sleep, mercifully undisturbed by one of Jamie’s nightmares, she was still in a good mood when she woke. Never mind that today the Cinderella moment was over and it was back to work for the lowly governess. She’d had a lovely evening and intended to enjoy the memory.

Even the weather seemed inclined to cooperate. Though no golden rays of sunshine streaked in through the windows, the clouds were light and fluffy instead of ominous and dark. Finally, she could take the children out for a walk.

As if they knew it, Jamie and Piers were particularly restless through their lessons, and even Nell seemed distracted, while Wink stared into space with a thoughtful expression on her face.

Oh dear. Had the girl developed a tendre for the handsome young solicitor? Caroline supposed there was no great harm in it, so she didn’t press. Instead she doggedly worked at keeping all four young minds focused on grammar and mathematics. Luncheon and its subsequent outing couldn’t come soon enough.

It was barely time for morning tea, however, when Johnson appeared in the nursery, telling Caroline that Miss Dorothy requested her presence. Caroline removed her apron and hurried downstairs with no idea what she’d find. The last thing she’d expected was to see Dorothy sitting amid a variety of fresh bouquets, tapping an engraved envelope in her hand.

“You must have made quite an impression on young Gideon,” said the older woman. “He sent you the biggest posy of all—though mine is none too shabby and the nosegay for Wink was a thoughtful touch.”

Caroline reached out and touched a large bouquet of mixed white and pink roses, framed by an elegant spray of orchids and a small bunch of yellow roses accented with daisies. “This is for me?”

“As is this.” With a quirk of her upper lip, Dorothy handed over the envelope she’d been toying with.

“What…?” Caroline tore open the letter to reveal an elegant, hand-written invitation to a “small family dinner” tonight at the home of one Gideon MacKay. The invitation was signed by Evelyn, Lady MacKay.

“Gideon’s mother,” Dorothy confirmed. “Apparently she’s acting as his hostess this evening. Well, dear, are you willing to go with Merrick and myself? I do hope you’ll consider it.”

“But—I’m not a guest here, Miss Dorothy. Just the governess—a servant to put it plainly. Surely this is unacceptable—unless he’s invited Mr. Berry and the children as well?”

“No. Only you. I assure you, though, there’s nothing openly scandalous about it. A governess may certainly move in social circles with her employers, especially as this is just a small event among close family friends. In another year or so, I’d expect Wink and Tom to be included as well, but having you already established will help ease their way.”

Should she go? She didn’t want to appear to take Mr. MacKay’s flirtation too seriously, but really, it would be such a treat to be welcomed as a guest somewhere for a change.

“And we really must do something about your wardrobe. I have decided that I’m tired of your hideous frocks. As a bonus for dealing with Edwin’s disdain, I’m taking you shopping for some suitable garments.” Dorothy narrowed her eyes. “And don’t even think of denying me. You know perfectly well you’ve chosen things to make yourself as unappealing as possible. I hope you realize by now that your subterfuge isn’t necessary here.”

“It isn’t subterfuge—not really. I just choose not to draw attention to myself.”

Dorothy snorted. “That’s why you wear spectacles, when you can see perfectly well without them? Please.”

A reluctant smile twitched at Caroline lips. “Very well, perhaps a tiny bit of protective coloring. The spectacles, I’m told, make me look older—also more serious and intellectual. Positive qualities in a teacher, I believe.”

“And utterly unnecessary in this household. Now run up, get your bonnet and tell Sally to take the children on their walk. We’re off to the dressmaker.”

Truly this must be the oddest employment in the history of governessing. Carrying her bouquet up to her bedroom, and Wink’s as well, Caroline went to fetch her hat.

An hour later she sat, shell-shocked as Dorothy haggled with the dressmaker over the color and design of a riding habit.

“But I don’t ride,” Caroline pointed out. She was so tired of being poked, prodded and pinned that she wanted to scream. “And I’m hardly likely to ever need an opera cloak either, I might point out.” She’d understood her benefactor—she really couldn’t think of Dorothy as her employer anymore—wanting to buy her one pretty gown for dinner. Perhaps something nice from a second-hand store, or the better end of ready-made. But no. Dorothy had dragged Caroline to her own modiste, who fortunately had several costumes made up for a customer who’d apparently ordered a whole new wardrobe then inconveniently turned up pregnant. Thus, Caroline now found herself the owner of walking dresses, day dresses, evening gowns and underpinnings so lacy and sheer she could barely see the point of wearing them. The one thing that hadn’t been included was a riding habit, and Dorothy insisted she needed that too.

“If the girls have riding lessons—which they’ll need, then you’ll want to join them.” Dorothy didn’t leave any room for argument. “And an opera cloak is an utter necessity if I decided you should accompany me to the theatre—or even to a soiree. Humor me, Caro. The only child I ever raised was Merrick, and shopping for a young man is nowhere near as entertaining. I’m enjoying myself, so stop complaining and help decide which dress you’ll wear this evening to the MacKays’ dinner party. I think the sapphire velvet, don’t you? Or would you prefer the bronze taffeta?”

Caroline looked at the two evening gowns, which each required minimal modification—a tuck at the waist and an inch or so off the hem. Neither operation would take much time at all on the newest automated alteration machine. Caroline stayed far from the device as she chose between the two gowns. “The blue.” Not that the bronze wasn’t prettier, but the blue velvet showed far less skin, which was still a considerable bit more than Caroline was comfortable with. “And the paisley shawl to go with it, perhaps?” Lord knew she’d freeze to death without something to cover her shoulders.

“Excellent choice.” Dorothy beamed, lifting up the soft wool, patterned in ruby, gold and sapphire. “Now, we must go. You still need a hat, gloves and slippers to match.”

“Of course.” Caroline managed to keep her groan internal. Once they were on the sidewalk outside, though, she muttered, “I feel like one of Nell’s dolls.”

Dorothy simply laughed.

Merrick paced at the bottom of the stairs waiting for Dorothy and Miss Bristol. Why on Earth had Gideon gone and invited Merrick’s governess to a dinner party? While Gideon didn’t have enough innate power to be a Knight like his father or older brother, he should have still possessed enough to be immune to her unwitting faery enchantment. That meant his interest in Miss Bristol was genuine, at least. Before the night was over, Merrick would know if it was honorable as well. The woman was under his protection, after all.

Dorothy came down the steps first, in one of her usual severe, dark-toned gowns, but still managing to look elegant. Her grin, though, was as light-hearted and impish as Merrick had seen it in years.

“What are you up to, aunt?” He knew her too well. When she smiled like that, there was certainly mischief involved. “And what’s keeping Caro—Miss Bristol?” When had he begun to think of her by her given name? Most inappropriate.

“She’s saying good-night to the children. She’ll be along in a moment.”

Sure enough, just a minute or so later, a figure appeared at the top of the stairs. Merrick couldn’t take his eyes off her. Where had his demure wren of a governess gone? Her dull plumage had been transformed into that of a peacock, in a bright blue velvet gown that exposed far too much of her lush upper curves, nipped in tightly at the waist, then belled out into fashionably flounced skirts. A simple strand of pearls graced her throat and tiny pearl studs dotted her earlobes. A brilliantly patterned paisley shawl draped over one arm, and a blue velvet ribbon was woven through her simply styled hair. Dorothy had even convinced her to leave her spectacles behind, so her emerald eyes gleamed brightly. In short, she’d become a beauty. Merrick was going to have to beat off the other males with his walking stick, especially Gideon.

Damn it to hell.

“Are you absolutely sure the high heels are required, Miss Dorothy? I’m liable to fall to my death coming down the stairs.”

“Nonsense.” Dorothy gripped Merrick’s arm when he would have run up to assist the younger woman. “You’re as nimble as one of the children. Now just hold the banister lightly and sweep down with all the grace you normally try to conceal.”

Caroline—yes, hell, he couldn’t really think of her as Miss Bristol anymore—rolled her eyes and gave a wry chuckle. “Well, if I kill myself, it will be your own fault when you have to interview new governess candidates.” Slowly, with her head held high, she lifted her skirts with one hand, gripped the railing with the other and began her descent.

He offered his arm as she reached the bottom of the stairs, hoping she didn’t notice his body’s physical reaction to hers. As always, there was that momentary jolt of electricity when they touched, even through her glove and his sleeve. “You look lovely, Miss Bristol. Shall we go?”

“Thank you, Sir Merrick, but the credit goes to your aunt. I assured her none of this was necessary. While I must thank you both, I am sorry she insisted on spending good money to outfit me.”

He laughed. “My aunt answers only to herself, and her finances are her own.” Though he intended to pay her back for Caroline’s wardrobe. The woman worked for him, not Dorothy, and Merrick was sick of seeing her flit about the house in her hideous clothes. “She merely lives with me because this house is too big for just one of us to rattle around in alone.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Dorothy said, taking Merrick’s other arm and tugging them all toward the door. “It gave me pleasure to take Caro shopping, so I did. End of story. Now, who should we expect at tonight’s festivities? We can fill Caro in along the way.”

Caro. Yes, the nickname suited her—young, pretty, bright—somehow it conjured all those characteristics. As the carriage rolled along toward Gideon’s new house, Merrick pondered the transformation, not entirely pleased about it. It had been better, safer, when only he’d seen the beauty under the dowdy garments. Now he couldn’t even pretend to find her unattractive. The men would be buzzing around her like flies, even though she was technically in service. Although—perhaps there was something he could do…

His mouth was moving before his brain even knew he was speaking. “Aunt, given Edwin’s discovery, and the unusual situation with my wards, I think we should tell everyone that Miss Bristol is a friend of the family. Perhaps her mother was a school friend of yours, or of my mother’s.”

“Excellent idea, Merrick.” Dorothy nodded her approval. “She’s chosen to make her own way, rather than live on charity, but really, she’s a welcome guest in our home, and would be, with or without the children. When she heard of our need, of course she came immediately to be of assistance, since neither you nor I have any experience with children.”

“Which puts her much more squarely under my protection.” Merrick didn’t miss the way Caroline’s eyes widened at his statement. She opened her mouth, probably to argue, but he held up his hand and looked into her eyes. “And with that, you had better call us Merrick and Dorothy, while you shall be Caro. Is that acceptable?”

“I honestly don’t understand any of this.” She looked up at him. “Why this subterfuge? Why can’t I simply be the governess?”

Dorothy replied before Merrick could form the words. “For one thing, with a young, eligible master of the household, many people will think the worst if you’re simply working for him. As my protégé, though, you’re in a much more respectable position, idiotic though that is. Also, it will allow me to take you out in society much more than I could otherwise—a prospect I find pleasant. As I said, I never had a daughter. Finally, there’s your, shall we say, mixed heritage. Among most people, that issue would never arise. Among the families of the Order, though, it will be obvious, and several of them are in Town at the moment. I’d rather they believe you’re the daughter of an old friend than assume you’ve been planted among us as some kind of spy.”

Merrick winced. A spy among the Order was exactly what he’d been warned to watch for, but he knew it wasn’t Caro.

He kept her hand on his arm as they strolled into Gideon’s new house, met at the door by his butler, whom Merrick recognized as the elder MacKay’s former head footman. After handing over their coats and hats, Merrick continued to keep a grip on Caroline while they were led to a fairly spacious drawing room and greeted by Evelyn and Sir William MacKay.

Gideon gravitated to Caro’s side like a magnet. While Merrick chatted with his former mentor, Gideon somehow spirited Caro off to introduce her around the room.

“She’s lovely,” Merrick overheard Lady MacKay telling Dorothy. “You’re lucky to have someone who could step right in and help with the children.”

“Absolutely,” Dorothy agreed. “Though I’d already offered her the chance just to come keep me company for the Season, but she’s got pride, and insists on making her own way.”

Bless Dorothy. She could lie without a blink.

“What a dear. And Gideon certainly seems taken. I think I shall have to get to know your Miss Bristol sooner rather than later.”

“Come to tea, soon. We’ve an excellent pair of nursery maids now, so I’m able to pry Caroline away from the children on occasion. The girl really should have a family of her own. She’s marvelous with them.”

Merrick listened to the women with half an ear while appearing to focus all his attention on Sir William’s discussion of steam-powered crop harvesters and their implications on lost income to the crofters—a subject Merrick would have normally bitten into with enthusiasm. Instead, he saw Gideon lay his hand on the back of Caro’s waist and felt the strangest urge to rush over and remove it at the wrist.

It was liable to be a very long evening.

The small, family dinner proved to be a feast for a mere thirty people, including, incredibly, the Duke and Duchess of Trowbridge, who greeted Caroline without a hint of condescension as a member of the Hadrian household. Caroline once again felt like Cinderella at the ball, but somehow it wasn’t as pleasant as she’d expected to have the attention of the prince. Gideon, as he’d insisted she call him, was kind and handsome and courteous. He was also quite brilliant and didn’t seem to mind that Caroline had a brain of her own. His conversation was varied and lively, his attentions flattering without encroaching. So why did her eyes keep straying to Sir Merrick and his partner, some redheaded Scottish debutante who giggled more than she spoke?

After dinner there was dancing, to tunes provided by an automaton quartet. Caroline kept to the far side of the room when Gideon tried to whirl her closer to show off the musical machines. It was a relief when Sir William claimed her for the next dance and seemed content to stay on the far side of the room. She instinctively liked Gideon’s parents and gathered that Sir William had been something of a mentor to Merrick after his father’s death.

Sir William handed her off to a pleasant young man named Liam McCullough, who was apparently a constable despite being the son of an Irish nobleman. After Mr. McCullough, Caroline danced with the Honorable Mr. Francis Gavin, a middle-aged man with wandering hands, who was apparently some sort of clerk in Merrick’s mysterious Order. Eventually, Mr. Gavin handed her off to Merrick for the next set, which of course, had to be a waltz.

Caroline swallowed hard as her employer pulled her close into the required embrace for the dance. Even though his hands never touched her bare skin—her long evening gloves saw to that—she could feel his closeness in a much more visceral way than she had when dancing with Gideon. As always, there was that flutter of nervous reaction the moment they touched. By the time the song had ended, Caroline was breathless. At least Merrick appeared to be affected, too. A fine sheen of sweat dampened the dark hairs at his temples.

“Shall we step out onto the terrace to catch our breath?”

There were other couples outside the open French doors, so she nodded, not trusting her voice to speak. Merrick paused at a chair where she’d left her shawl, and draped it over her shoulders before leading her out into the night.

Surely there would be stars visible, if only they weren’t hidden by fog and coal smoke. It was such a fantasy of an evening that somewhere inside, Caroline had expected stars. Still, the evening air cooled her overheated skin and she breathed deeply.

“It’s a lovely house, isn’t it?” She tried desperately to maintain a polite conversation.

“It’s all right,” he agreed. “A shame that someone used the wrong color brick when they blocked the cellar windows, but other than that, it seems in good repair.”

Caroline laughed. Of course Merrick would notice such things—he saw everything around him. Caroline had been too busy admiring the flowerbed out front to even note that there were cellar windows. “I’m sure it just lends a touch of character to the exterior.”

“Someday, Miss Bristol, you shall have to tell me where you learned such perfect manners and how to dance like a lady born.” His murmur, pitched so low only she could hear, caused his breath to puff warm against her ear, setting up sympathetic vibrations in much lower portions of her anatomy. His hip pressed against hers, further addling her senses. Her heart raced erratically, her lower belly began to ache, and her breasts felt so swollen she feared they’d pop right out of the low décolletage of her gown.

“I was raised in a noble household,” she admitted. “But times change, and suddenly I needed to work. It’s a common enough story.”

His chuckle tickled the side of her throat and intensified the ache in her womb. She’d never felt physical desire before, but she was too honest with herself to deny that she certainly was experiencing it now. “Somehow I doubt that anything about you is common.”

“Pointed ears and all,” she agreed, trying to keep her spine stiff when she desperately wanted to melt and lean back against his broad, solid strength.

“Assuredly.” He brushed his hand along her bare upper arm, causing her to gasp. Then he opened his mouth as if to say something, but before he could, Sir William was there, tapping him on the shoulder.

“Something’s come up, Merrick. His grace needs us immediately.”

Even in the dim light filtering out from the open doors, Caroline could see that the older man’s face was set in grim lines. She stepped aside from Merrick. “Will you need to leave immediately, Sir Merrick? I can fetch your aunt so we may be off at once.”

“No need.” Merrick snapped immediately into his predatory demeanor. “I’ll go along with Sir William. You and Aunt Dorothy can stay as long as you like, then return home in the carriage.”

“As you wish.”

Moments later, Merrick was gone and she was back in the ballroom, dancing another waltz, this one with Gideon. Why did it seem as if the magick had been drained from the evening?

Chapter Eight

Finally, after nearly a week of delays, Caroline was able to take the children on their promised outing to the Zoological Garden at Regent’s Park the morning after the dinner party at Gideon MacKay’s. She’d tried to convince Mr. Berry to let Tommy join them, but to no avail, so their spirits were a trifle subdued as they set out in one of the Hadrian’s larger but less comfortable carriages. Soon, however, the adventure of the trip and the promise of a stop for an ice cream on the way home had boosted their youthful spirits back into place. Caroline only wished it worked on her own muddled senses.

They chatted excitedly in the coach, with George in the opposite corner from Caroline. Nell’s lark and Jamie’s monkey had been left behind. Nell preferred to leave Lark as a guardian for her “family” of dolls, while Jamie was too entranced with the idea of seeing real monkeys to worry about Jojo, his mechanical one. To him, Jojo was a favorite toy, while George, to Wink, was nearly a living, breathing pet. He was such a part of the nursery that sometimes even Caroline forgot the large dog was a machine, and stopped herself just in time to refrain from petting him. It was still beyond her comprehension that her negative effect on all things mechanical might be a hereditary failing that stemmed from faery blood. How she wished her mother was still alive to ask.

Once they reached the zoo, even Caroline forgot about her worries and gave in to the excitement of the adventure—though it took a good bit of herding to keep all four children from running in four different directions. Without Sally’s able assistance, Caroline wasn’t sure she’d have been able to manage. Wink had brought a sketchbook and was making notes and drawings regarding shape and proportions of various species. Jamie delighted in feeding peanuts to the elephants, Nell was engrossed in watching a mother gorilla nurse its young, and Piers seemed to be absorbing and memorizing—well, everything. After a little while the boys grew restless, while the girls wanted to see the Botanic Gardens nearby, so they determined to split up. Caroline would go with the girls to provide a botany lesson, while Sally would take the boys for a ramble along the canal towpath on the other side of the zoo. They’d meet in an hour back at the carriage for their picnic luncheon.

The gardens were just beginning to bloom, and Caroline let her senses fill with the shades of green, the sound of the soft breeze, the warmth of the sun and the fragrances of rich soil and budding blooms. She’d missed spending time outdoors in the last few days, and by themselves, Nell and Wink were relatively easy companions. As they walked, she explained some of the different families of plant life to the girls.

When it came time to return to the carriage, the only thing that kept them from lingering were growling stomachs, their appetites having been heightened by the exercise and fresh air. Cutting through a small grove of trees, she found herself lifting her skirts and running alongside the girls—well, behind them, at any rate. Her corset and more extensive petticoats hampered her speed, if not her enjoyment.

Perhaps twenty yards ahead of Caroline, Wink let out a shriek as she tumbled to the ground. Almost simultaneously, dark shapes emerged from behind the trees on either side of the path, closing in on both girls. Caroline counted four as she ran forward, brandishing her umbrella like a weapon.

“George, attack!” Wink pointed at one of her two attackers and kicked the legs out from under the other in a move so swift, Caroline barely saw it. George’s bronze jaws clamped down on a leg as he pulled one man away from his mistress, and that man emitted a howl of pain while he used a small object to beat at George’s metallic head.

Nell elbowed one of her opponents in the solar plexus, and then kneed the other in the groin. Both men swore, but both had moved to limit damage and neither was disabled. Caroline reached them and brought her umbrella down on the head of the nearest man, mangling the flimsy wire ribs and cracking the oaken shaft. If she were going to use it as a weapon, she’d need a much sturdier instrument.

Still, the man wavered, allowing Nell to get in a head butt, knocking him to the earth. Both girls clearly knew how to fight, and Caroline had studied enough tactics to keep her from the mercies of her employers. George had already rendered one man unconscious, and was closing in on a second. As soon as they realized they were losing, the biggest bruiser threw the unconscious man over his shoulder, and they fled just as Caroline heard the shouts of Jamie, Piers and Debbins, the coachman, approaching. The sound of hoofbeats racing away obviated any thought of having Debbins pursue them. Besides, he only carried one single-shot pistol. Pity, that.

“Anybody hurt, miss?”

Caroline spent a moment to be certain the girls were bruised and shaken but otherwise unharmed. One of the thugs had gotten a few blows in on Nell, causing a knot at her temple and a sore shoulder. It looked as if Wink was liable to have a black eye to go with her scraped hands and twisted ankle from the steel wire the thugs had stretched across the walking path and anchored with a small hand winch on each side. Caroline herself was hopeful that her wrist was merely wrenched rather than sprained and she seemed to have taken a blow to the ribcage, leaving her slightly short of breath.

“Miss Caro, you’re bleeding!” Nell tugged on Caroline’s sleeve. Sure enough, the blow to her waist had done more than dent the stays of her corset. The gray serge of her bodice showed a slit perhaps two inches wide, and the fabric around it was slowly turning black.

“Bloody hell.” Caroline hadn’t even noticed one of the men had a knife. “I never even felt it. Thank heavens George chased that one off.” And thank heavens this was one of her old frocks, as it was clearly ruined.

Caroline found herself being herded toward the carriage along with Wink and Nell. Without asking for permission, Debbins started for home, and no one complained. All thoughts of a picnic had been completely forgotten.

“Miss Caro, please, let’s get you seen to before you bleed out on the nursery floor. I’ve no mind to clean that up.”

“I’m fine,” Caroline insisted to Sally for what felt like the thirtieth time. “I can tend myself once the girls are taken care of.” In the adjacent bathing room, Becky worked on cleaning Nell’s cuts and scratches. Wink sat in the nursery rocking chair, with Caroline at a stool, Wink’s swollen ankle across Caroline’s knees. She poked the inflamed joint, wondering whether it required a surgeon, but after a moment, she shook her head. Keeping her hands on the injury, she wondered if it would make any difference, if she really did possess some kind of ability to heal. “Sally, it’s just wrenched. Please fetch me something to wrap it with.”

Wink snorted. “Told you so.” Given the pain the girl had to be in, Caroline was in no mood to correct her manners.

“I’ll wrap it, miss.” Sally knelt beside Caroline’s stool with a roll of linen bandage. “Then can we take care of that cut? You’re still bleeding, and your face has gone awful pale.”

Before Caroline could protest further—her head did seem to be a little on the fuzzy side—Sir Merrick himself strode into the nursery. “Miss Bristol, what the bloody hell is going on here?” So much for last night when he’d called her Caro. “Debbins tells me you were attacked by footpads in Regent’s Park.”

“Then you’ve just answered your own question.” Lord, she sounded like an eight-year-old, even to herself. She drew in as deep a breath as her dented corset would allow and spoke carefully. “We’re all a bit battered, but there were no serious injuries, thank heavens. No—thank George, and whoever taught these girls how to defend themselves. There were four of them. Four.”

“Let’s see that ankle, then.” He squatted down, probed a little, and nodded for Sally to finish wrapping it. Using one gentle finger, he tipped back Wink’s chin and grinned. “That shiner’s going to be a beaut. Good thing I scheduled the photographer for later this week rather than tomorrow. Is that the worst of it?”

“I believe so. Nell has a lump on her head, but her pupils aren’t dilated and she isn’t dizzy.” Caroline’s world was beginning to fuzz around the edges again. What was that about a photographer? She couldn’t be bothered to ask.

“Miss Caro’s been cut.” Sally tipped her chin defiantly when Caroline scowled at her. “She won’t let us see to ’er till the girls are dealt with. Her wrist is swellin’ up right nice, too.”

“Caro?” He turned his critical gaze on her. “Damn, woman, you are pale. Why didn’t you say something?”

“I’m fine. It’s only a small cut and a twisted wrist.” Though both were starting to throb rather mercilessly. “Where are Piers and Jamie?” Though she was glad they weren’t complicating matters in the nursery right now, she wasn’t at all comfortable having them out of her sight.

“Debbins and the grooms are teaching them to curry a horse. They’re well guarded and happy as clams—whatever that means. Now sit still for a moment. I’ll be right back.” He stood and strode over to the open door of the lavatory. “Nell, how are you feeling?”

“Right buggered that they got away, sir,” the younger girl replied. “The burly one landed a punch on my shoulder, but it’ll just be a bruise.”

His expression softened. “Good. And good on you girls, both of you, for taking care of yourselves. Now let Becky and Sally finish cleaning you up, while I see to Miss Caro.”

“Sir Merrick that’s hardly—ack!” Before Caroline could say “proper,” he’d scooped her up into his arms and carried her toward the door.

“I’m told I owe you a new umbrella,” he said as he carried her through to her own room. “Apparently the girls weren’t the only ones defending themselves. My thanks for protecting them.” Instead of carrying her through to the bathing room as she’d expected, he laid her atop the coverlet of her bed. Pulling a spring-loaded knife from the pocket of his frock coat, he calmly flicked out the blade and enlarged the slit in her bodice until he could peel it back to reveal her corset cover.

“Sir Merrick, please.” She couldn’t lie here and let him undress her. “I’m not bleeding to death, I promise. There must be a female servant who can help me out of my stays?”

“Hold still. I don’t want to accidentally add to your wounds.” He utterly ignored her plea for modesty, cutting through her plain cotton corset cover and peeling it back as well. Her corset itself had front hooks allowing her to dress without assistance, so that he just opened it with nimble fingers rather than cutting further and having to deal with the stays. Once she was down to her muslin shift, he used the knife again, slitting it horizontally this time, so he could reveal her ribcage while leaving her breasts covered, if only in the thin fabric. Again, she thanked heaven it was one of her old, sturdy ones, and not one of the new, practically transparent undergarments Dorothy had purchased for her. Still, she lay with her arms crossed over her chest. His touch soothed, making the pain just a little more tolerable.

Finally, he had her skin bared. His hands were amazingly gentle as he examined the wound. “This should be stitched. It’s still bleeding, albeit sluggishly.”

“Nonsense. I’ll clean it up, put a bandage on it, and I’ll be fine. My corset will hold the gauze in place quite nicely.” Though it would also hurt like hell, having bone or metal stays pressing on the wound.

Merrick raised one eyebrow. “You really are delusional, aren’t you? You won’t be getting dressed for a day or two at the least.” He walked over to the speaking tube in the corner—something Caroline had never dared use. “Somebody send for Mr. Wallace, please. And if Mrs. Granger could please come up to Miss Bristol’s room, with the medical kit and some ice, her assistance would be appreciated.”

“Thank you.” Though what that devout lady would think when she came in and saw Caroline stripped nearly bare, Caroline had no idea.

“Now hold still while we put some pressure on that until the surgeon arrives.” He ducked into the bathroom and came back with a small linen towel which he folded into a pad, perhaps three inches square. “Which is your undamaged wrist?”

“Right.” Why did she sound so weak and tired? This is ridiculous—buck up, girl.

“Then hold this in place with as much pressure as you can manage with your right hand, while I take a look at your left.” He laid her hand over the linen pad, pushing down firmly to show her what to do. Next, he sat on the edge of the bed and laid her sore arm across his lap.

“The swelling isn’t too bad—doesn’t look broken.” He rotated her hand to find the extent of her mobility and nodded. “Just a mild sprain, but we’ll need to wrap it for a day or two.”

Footsteps sounded in the hallway before Caroline could say anything—not that she had any idea what to say. Mrs. Granger bustled in with a basket under one arm and an ice bag in the other.

“We’ll be fine now, Sir Merrick,” the housekeeper said bluntly. “Run along and send Mr. Wallace up when he arrives.”

“I’ll wait.” He sat in the chair in the corner, as if defying either woman to argue with him. “She needs the ice on her right wrist.”

“I can see that.” The older woman shook her gray head, a few frizzy curls having escaped her cap. “You’ve also left the poor girl practically bare.” She pulled a frayed blue shawl from the bedpost and draped it over Caroline’s upper body. Finally, Mrs. Granger laid the ice pack alongside Caroline’s hip, with her wrist resting on the blessed coolness.

For the first time since the attack, Caroline let herself close her eyes. The children were being taken care of. The surgeon was on his way to stitch her up. Perhaps the world wouldn’t end if she fell asleep for a moment or two.

She woke when another man entered her room. “Seems the more people you get in this house, the more business for me, eh, Sir Merrick?”

Caroline opened her eyes to see a gray-haired man with bristly mutton-chops smiling down at her. “Had a bit of a dust-up, did we?”

“Knife wound in the ribs, sprained left wrist.”

At the sound of his voice, Caroline let her gaze drift to the corner of the room where Merrick still sat in the room’s single easy chair, while Mrs. Granger sat beside the bed on the small chair from the writing desk, still pressing down on the bandage.

“Yes, he’s always this bossy, even when he’s the patient,” the surgeon said, his gray-blue eyes twinkling. “I’m going to go wash the travel dust from my hands, then I’ll be right back to look at that cut. Mrs. Granger, if you could fetch me a basin of water and some cloths?”

“Of course, Mr. Wallace. I have the lye soap you prefer as well.” The housekeeper relinquished her position, bustling from the room as the surgeon ducked into the bathroom, bar of soap in hand.

When he returned, he sat by the bed and carefully lifted the pad. “Ah, not too bad. The wound isn’t deep. Your stays blunted the worst of it.” Accepting a wet cloth from Mrs. Granger when she returned, he began to carefully clean away the blood. “Still, Sir Merrick is right—it could use a stitch or two.”

“Very well.”

“I do have ether, or I can give you some laudanum first, so you won’t feel it.” He checked her pupils. “Do you have any head injuries? There’s no obvious sign of concussion.”

“A mild headache, but nothing serious. And I’d rather you didn’t sedate me if that’s all right. Some medications make me ill. I can hold still while you set the stitches. I’ve done it before.”

“Ah, you do fit right in around here, don’t you?” He chuckled as he began to thread a curved needle. “Very well. Sir Merrick and Mrs. Granger should certainly be able to hold you down if the need arises.”

She did keep her eyes averted as he packed the cut with a foul-smelling salve, then she gripped the bedclothes tightly with her good hand as she felt the first sting of the needle. Merrick appeared beside her and gathered her hand into his bigger one. “Squeeze as hard as you like.”

It was the first time they’d touched while neither wore gloves, and the feel of his rough skin was a marvelous distraction from the pain of being sewn back together. Unable to help herself, she gazed into his eyes as she clamped down hard on his hand. If she heard a slight huff of disapproval from Mrs. Granger, who stood with one hand on Caroline’s other shoulder, she ignored it.

It seemed only a moment later that the task was done. The surgeon swabbed the entire area with iodine, then asked Sir Merrick and Mrs. Granger to help her sit, so he could wrap her torso in bandages. Once that was done, he disappeared into the lavatory again and returned to examine her wrist.

“Keep it wrapped for a few days, but it’s a very minor sprain.” Using yet another roll of linen, he wrapped it tightly, then looked into her eyes, his kindly expression turning stern. “Now, I imagine you’ll want a bath, but you need to keep those stitches dry. One of the maids can help you with a sponge bath, and into some nightclothes. Then I want you off your feet for the rest of today and preferably most of tomorrow, though you can sit up in a chair if it’s comfortable. You lost a good bit of blood and will need some time to regain your strength.”

Caroline opened her mouth to argue, but a sharp glance from Merrick stopped her protest. “She’ll be taken care of, Mr. Wallace. You can count on it. Now, if you’ve another moment or two, I’d like you to look in on the girls.” He led the surgeon from the room with a look at Mrs. Granger. “You’ll assist Miss Bristol?”

“Yes, Sir Merrick.” As soon as the men left the room, she turned to Caroline. “Let’s get you cleaned up, then.”

Caroline sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Her head swam at first, but only a little. Still, she didn’t reject the other woman’s help on the way into the bathing room, or in removing what was left of her clothes.

“I’ll send up a tray with your luncheon,” Mrs. Granger said once Caroline was washed and dressed in a clean nightgown. “You leave Sally and Becky to deal with the children.”

“Yes, ma’am. And thank you.”

With a crisp nod and a grunt that might have been approval or disgust, Mrs. Granger left the room. Caroline stared at the closed door. She wasn’t sleepy. Her book and embroidery were both in the nursery. What was she supposed to do now?

Ten minutes later, Becky arrived with a tray full of oxtail soup, fresh bread and butter, and a pitcher of milk. While Caroline ate, she quizzed the maid on the children, relieved to discover that the surgeon had concurred with Caroline and Merrick’s diagnoses. Both Nell and Wink were to rest for today, and Nell was to keep off her ankle for a week or so. Now Mr. Wallace was checking up on Jamie’s broken arm. Before she took the tray away, Becky happily fetched Caroline’s things from the nursery and left both doors open so Caroline only had to call out if she needed anything. She couldn’t remember ever being so coddled.

Warm and well fed, if sore, she settled back against the pillows and lost herself in the pages of Jane Eyre, one of her favorite gothic novels. This time through, though, Caroline couldn’t help mentally chiding the protagonist. Silly governess, falling in love with her employer—and a married one at that. Nonetheless, whenever Caroline pictured Mr. Rochester, he bore a strong resemblance to a certain brown-eyed baronet.

She’d gotten so caught up in the novel that she didn’t hear anyone enter her room. When Merrick cleared his throat loudly from the foot of her bed, Caroline started and dropped the book in her lap.

“Aren’t you supposed to be resting?” One lock of dark hair had fallen over his forehead and she had the most dreadful urge to brush it back.

“I am,” she assured him wryly. “Honestly, I don’t feel ill at all. I’m only lying here because I don’t want to undo Mr. Wallace’s hard work.”

“Good. Then if you’re up to it, I want you to tell me everything you can remember about the attack—don’t leave out any detail, no matter how seemingly insignificant.” He folded himself into the small desk chair that still rested right next to the bed.

Caroline sat up straighter against her pillows and angled her body to face him more directly. Slowly, carefully, she recounted the events from the time they left the zoo until they’d returned to Hadrian House.

“One of the reasons I brought all five children here to live,” he said softly, “was that I believed them to be in danger. Is it possible that this was a planned attack on the girls specifically, or did it feel more random? I believe you have reliable instincts, Caro, and I’m asking you to use them.”

“I’ve been assuming it was random.” Still, she thought back, carefully reliving the ambush. “But it might have been intentional. Once we split off and headed to the Botanic Gardens, it would have been obvious we’d take that same path back to the coach. Our hour or so in the garden would have given them plenty of time to rig the trip wire.”

“It could.” He nodded thoughtfully. “The boys stayed out in the open, reducing their vulnerability. Also, the girls and George might seem the larger threat. If I’m correct, our villains know very well that Wink, at least, is a force to be reckoned with. And George. But they miscalculated Nell’s abilities and your own—for which I’m grateful.”

“I never thought I’d be glad for having had cause to learn self-defense.” Her laugh was shaky, but she managed to keep her voice from cracking. “I do wish you’d mentioned the possibility of danger. We’ve been outside nearly every day.”

“From now on, you’ll have an armed escort, I’m afraid. But these children would lose their minds if they were confined inside every day.” Merrick gave her a rueful half smile. “I’d send them up to Hadrian Hall in Northumberland, but I’m afraid the problems would simply follow them.”

“Who or what do you think is behind this danger? Is it the vampyres they were fighting when you met them?” Some things weren’t considered proper to talk about, but she needed to know what she was facing.

“Yes. Vampyres have never been known to work in groups before, much less cooperate with humans. Now we seem to have a large-level conspiracy between some highly placed men and several of the undead. I’m afraid that my wards are caught up in the middle of the problem, having been seen and identified by some of the creatures.”

“Does this tie in to your mysterious Order? The one I’m not supposed to even know about, according to Mr. Berry?”

Merrick shoved his hand through his hair, wishing he knew what to do. On the one hand, he’d sworn an oath of secrecy. On the other, she needed to know what she could be facing. She was part of his household now, and they’d already hurt her once.

“The Order of the Round Table is England’s oldest,” he began. “It’s not a myth, as most people believe, but a real organization, founded by the Romano-British chieftain Artorius and his druid friend Merlin. From the very beginning, they collected warriors with certain powers, abilities that would help them combat enemies both human and otherwise. The Order still exists today, with membership mostly descended from Arthur’s original cadre.”

“Sir Merrick,” Caroline mused, her brow wrinkled slightly in thought. “Sir William MacKay—MacKay, son of Kay. Mr. Berry—from Bleoberis? I’ll assume his father or older brother or uncle is a baronet?”

“You know your Arthurian legends.” He bowed his head in approval. “Bleoberis isn’t one of the more popular Knights in modern adaptations of the tale. And yes, he was an ancestor of Edwin’s, whose nephew, by the way, is the current Knight of the Order, while Edwin’s older brother retains the baronetcy.”

“The Duke of Trowbridge’s family name is Lake,” she mused. “Du Lac? No wonder he’s the head of your Order. He’s descended from Sir Lancelot.”

“And Arthur’s granddaughter, who married one of Galahad’s sons. Mordred was Arthur’s only son, but he and Guinevere did have a daughter.”

“Gavin—for Gawain?” Ah yes, she’d met Trowbridge’s secretary at Gideon’s house.

“Of course.” Merrick smiled at her perception.

“And Hadrian? That doesn’t tie into any of the Knights I’ve ever heard of, though I suppose Emperor Hadrian built his wall at about the same time in history.”

Her quick absorption of the information and the way she followed the strands of the tale without appearing either shocked or skeptical caused a surge of pride. His aunt had chosen well—this was an ally he’d be delighted to have by his side. “My distant ancestor was a bastard son of said emperor, when he visited Northumberland in the second century. His mother was a druid priestess—and the daughter of a Knight who bore no sons. Apparently when he was ready to retire and finding himself without a direct male heir, Sir Tristram chose to bring his half-Roman grandson into the Order, establishing my lineage in the organization.”

“Fascinating.” Her intent, intelligent expression bore out her words. “Now how does that relate to this current problem with vampyres?”

To his own surprise, he told her. Everything. About his father’s death and his own initiation at the age of twenty-two, and his training with Sir William. Even up to the missing Babbage engine cards and his search for a traitor within the Order. Throughout his recitation, she didn’t say a word, though her brilliant green eyes grew round with horror.

“Is there any way I can help?” Somehow he’d known those would be the first words out of her mouth.

He shook his head. “Just watch over the children. That’s more than enough—more than I have any right to ask.”

Her chin set stubbornly as she stared him down. “Merrick, I’ve seen a great deal of the worst of human behavior. I would never voluntarily leave any child, even ones more competent in some ways than myself—to face that kind of evil alone.”

He gave in to the urge to reach out and touch her uninjured hand. “I’ve told you my story, Caro. I would know yours, beyond that you’re from Somerset, illegitimate and part leannan sidhe. How did you go from being a gently bred lady to a governess?”

She shrugged. “As I’ve said before, it’s not an unusual tale. My mother was the daughter of a peer. Her father loved her dearly and didn’t disown her when she fell pregnant with no husband in sight. She continued to run his household, and he doted on the pair of us until the day he died. Unfortunately, he was careless when it came to his legal affairs, and he didn’t specify our continued subsistence in his will. His lordship, my uncle, wasn’t inclined to support his disgraced sister and her offspring, so out we went, with little more than the clothes on our backs. My mother…broke, somehow. Her mind was never altogether sound again. So it fell to me to support the pair of us—first at a small village school, then as a private instructor after my mother died.”

“And you were how old?” He’d like to find her uncle and throttle the man.

“Sixteen.”

He barely suppressed a growl. “And which peer of our realm is your relative? It occurs to me I may know the man—though I can’t think of one with the surname Bristol.”

She bit her lip, then admitted, “I took the name Bristol from the nearest city to the village where I taught. It’s not my real name.”

“Caro—who is he?”

“No.” She met his gaze, determination evident in hers. Scooting closer to the edge of the bed, she turned her hand in his, squeezing tightly. “I’m not going to tell you, Sir Merrick. Please just let it go.”

He didn’t have it in him to deny her—not while she lay there, vulnerable. But one of these days he was going to find out and make the bastard pay. He reached out and cradled her face in his free hand. “Caro—” Even he didn’t know what he’d been about to say. He couldn’t fight the urge to see if she tasted as good as she looked. Moving slowly, giving her plenty of time to push him away, he leaned forward and lowered his lips to hers.

The barest brush of skin against skin burned like an electrical shock. This wasn’t faery magick or a Knight’s power, but the raw, elemental earth magick of male and female. He kissed her again, this time with enough pressure to actually call it a kiss. It still wasn’t enough. Far from rebuffing him, Caro clutched his head with her good hand, her fingers spearing through his hair to hold him closer.

“Ahem.”

Merrick jumped back from Caro and she recoiled back against the headboard, her face flaming a vibrant pink. They both turned guilty faces toward the bedroom door.

The expression on Dorothy’s face was more amused than disapproving, but over that was strain and even fear. Merrick got to his feet without even knowing he’d done so. “Aunt, what’s the matter?”

“I arrived home just now—at the same time as Edwin and Tommy returned from the museum. Merrick—they were attacked. I think we’d better summon Mr. Wallace.”

“Again?” Merrick’s jaw dropped. “Are they both…”

“Alive? Yes. Edwin suffered a few bruises, I believe, and Tommy sustained a slash on his thigh from a sword-cane. Had it been deeper, it could have been deadly.” Dorothy’s eyes flew then, to Caro’s bandaged wrist. “And then, nephew, I think you’d better explain to me exactly what is going on.”

Merrick nodded. “Yes. Tonight, we will have our council of war, including you, Edwin and Caro. And heaven help our enemies.”

Chapter Nine

Several days had passed since the incident in Regent’s Park, and Caroline hadn’t spent so much as a moment alone with Merrick. In fact, she’d begun to suspect he was avoiding her as much as she was avoiding him. She and the children had mostly recovered from their injuries, rapidly enough that she was beginning to believe she might be capable of subconsciously aiding in their healing.

As Caroline dressed, she looked over at the flowers on her dresser—the first bouquet had mostly wilted, but the second was bright and fresh. Mr. Gideon MacKay was such a thoughtful young man. He’d visited yesterday and even invited her to join him at the theatre this weekend. Caroline had declined of course, to Dorothy’s dismay. Gideon was a nice man, but Caroline didn’t feel comfortable encouraging him.

It was a bright, sunny Thursday morning, but today she wasn’t allowed to take the children for a walk. Merrick had commissioned a photographer to come and take portraits of each of his wards. Caroline and Dorothy had used a little powder to hide the last faint traces of Wink’s black eye, while Sally and Becky had wrestled the younger ones into their best clothing. The photographer had chosen a little-used sitting room on the main floor for the portraits, and set up his equipment. Caroline was to bring the children in one by one and see that they behaved. Thankfully, Dorothy had volunteered to assist.

“You know, we really should get one of all of them together—and perhaps with Merrick as well—a family portrait as it were.” Dorothy combed a lock of Jamie’s hair off to the side. His cast was quite hidden by his proper jacket, and seated on a high stool, he looked positively angelic—until he smiled—then he practically sprouted horns and a tail, there was so much devilment in him. Still, Caroline thought he was adorable.

“I think that would be an excellent idea.” Caroline shook her finger at Jamie when he went to move. “I’d even pay for a copy of a photograph of all five of them from my wages.” No matter how many students she went on to have in her lifetime, she already knew none would touch her heart like this raggle-taggle group.

“I’ll go fetch Merrick and the other children.” Before either Caroline or the photographer could speak, Dorothy was out the door.

The photographer finished the photos of Jamie, then gestured at his assistants, who whisked away the chair and replaced it with a sofa, while Jamie stood next to Caroline and watched. Jojo, his mechanical monkey, hopped up on his shoulder at the snap of Jamie’s fingers, so Caroline took care to keep back.

Soon the rest of the group tumbled through the door, Merrick more reluctantly following along behind them. Sally, Becky, Dorothy and Caroline crowded against the far wall of the room, while Merrick and Mr. Berry stood as far from the women as possible, all watching as the photographer positioned each one. The first shot would be of the five children alone, though he reluctantly agreed to allow George, Jojo and Lark into the picture. Tommy sat in the middle with George lying at his feet, flanked by the girls. The two younger boys perched on the arms of the sofa, Piers next to Nell, and Jamie beside Wink. They all looked so happy together, it overcame their natural reluctance to be captured on film, and they smiled brilliantly out at their audience. Then that pose was over, and it was time to add Merrick and Dorothy, who sat on stools behind the sofa, looking down on their charges.

“We want one with Miss Caro,” Jamie called as Merrick moved to leave. “She’s family, too, now, isn’t she?”

“Not really…” Caroline began.

Dorothy nodded. “I believe she is. Caro, come on up here.”

“But I’m not dressed for a portrait.” Though her new day dress in muted sage-green with a modest hoopskirt was certainly finer than anything she’d owned before a week ago.

“Nonsense. Now come stand on the other side of Merrick. Tiny as you are, you won’t need to sit to match us in height.” Dorothy was clearly not going to tolerate an argument. Even Merrick nodded curtly, so Caroline moved to stand beside him.

“She could sit on Sir Merrick’s knee,” Nell offered helpfully.

“I’ll stand,” she assured the children. “And if I’m in the photo, then Mr. Berry should be as well. Perhaps another stool can be found so he can sit beside Miss Dorothy?” All the adults but her were tall, as was Tommy. Perhaps it was a trait common in families of the Order.

“Excellent thinking, Caro.” Merrick didn’t even turn to look at her as he spoke, just gestured for the tutor to join them. “Edwin, come along, and bring that chair from the corner.”

With a little more direction from the photographer and his assistants, the large group portrait was taken. At the last minute, Merrick managed to slip his arm behind Caroline’s waist and draw her in closer to the heat of his body. Hopefully, her wide startled eyes didn’t come out in the finished photograph. Really, what was the man thinking?

Finally, the ordeal was over, and the Hadrians departed, along with Mr. Berry, Sally and Jamie, who could now change back into play clothes. Nell opted to watch while Piers and then Tommy took his turn. The girl watched the oldest boy with a wistful smile while leaning up against Caroline companionably in the far corner. Hmm, perhaps here was one of the children who didn’t feel like a sibling to at least one of the others. Caroline made a mental note to talk to Merrick about that potential quagmire.

“Sir Merrick—he’s an awful handsome bloke, isn’t he?”

Caroline was so proud of Nell for pronouncing all her H’s that she almost missed what the girl had said. Good lord, Nell wasn’t developing romantic feelings for Tommy, but for her guardian. Oh dear! “I suppose he is, in an older, distinguished sort of way,” Caroline replied carefully. Older, indeed. The man was clearly in his prime. He couldn’t possibly be close to his fortieth birthday.

“He’s not that old, Miss Caro. You’re close to the same age, aren’t you? He isn’t too old for you.”

Oh, goodness, Caroline had been wrong again. Nell didn’t have feelings for Sir Merrick—probably not for Tommy either. The little minx was matchmaking. That wouldn’t do at all. It was bad enough, Caroline couldn’t forget his kiss.

“He’s my employer, Nell.” She kept her tone gentle, but firm—her proper governess voice. “And a baronet. That makes him far, far above my touch.” Regrettably.

“We’ll see.” Nell tucked her hand into Caroline’s and sighed. “Means he shouldn’t have us here either, and look how that turned out.”

Caroline was exhausted by the time she reached the ladies’ lending library that afternoon for her half-day. Aside from the photography, it seemed she’d spent most of the morning arguing. She wasn’t even counting the discussion with Nell about Merrick. No, it had been simply one argument after another with her employers.

First, she’d reminded them that the children were most likely still in danger. Caroline had maintained that she should forego her half-day and remain with her charges. That had been denied by Dorothy, who’d decided to personally supervise their daily walk to the park. Since the older woman was at least as capable in a crisis as Caroline, and probably more so, Caroline had been forced to concede.

Then there was the great transportation debate—which had been less rational discussion and more forceful commands. Caroline had planned, as always, to walk. Sir Merrick wouldn’t hear of it. She’d been ambushed at the door by Debbins, who’d insisted on driving her in Sir Merrick’s private coach, with an armed footman on the back, who’d escorted her right up the library steps. Really, it was becoming something of a farce. The man ignored her for days, then in one morning he’d put his arm around her in a photograph and ordered her to travel under armed guard.

All Caroline wanted to do at that point was spend the entire afternoon reading and avoid thinking about Hadrian House and its occupants altogether.

Unfortunately, even that degree of peace was to be denied her. The main reading room was filled with what she, Dorothy and the others in their reading group privately referred to as the “Chatterbox Society.” The group of well-off young matrons read nothing but the latest sensation and came here mainly to discuss beaux, fashion and society gossip. Loudly. With a great deal of giggling.

Caroline winced at a particularly shrill shriek and tried to sink deeper into her own chair, hidden slightly from the others by a low bookshelf.

“Melinda, you absolutely must get Rutland to take you to the Sorcery Society’s masked ball tomorrow night. The occult vibrations in the air are just so…so stimulating, if you get my meaning. Why last week, I even danced with an actual vampyre. I was so terrified I could barely catch my breath, but I needn’t have worried. He was pale, with fangs of course, but otherwise polite as could be.”

A vampyre? At a ball? Certainly not. Still, Caroline gave up all pretense of reading her book on educational theory and settled in to eavesdrop without feeling the slightest twinge of remorse. If they’d already perfected that formula Merrick was searching for, it could have actually happened.

“No, Deborah, you goose. Getting tickets is the easiest thing in the world. Any of the members can invite you.” The speaker went on to name several possible candidates, which Caroline hurriedly scribbled down in the notebook where she’d been jotting tips about teaching language skills. Surely, Merrick or Dorothy would know one of these pillars of society. The more they talked, the more she grew certain that Merrick needed to visit this Sorcery Society, and the more determined she became to attend herself.

Sir Merrick, however, was more difficult to convince than she’d anticipated.

“It’s nonsense,” he told Caroline when she bearded him in his library late that evening after he’d returned from his club—which she’d begun to suspect was really where he met with his Order. “I don’t see any point in following up on the gossip of a bunch of silly hens.”

“They specifically mentioned a vampyre who looked and acted human.” She tapped her fingers restlessly on his desk, then stopped to wrap her arms around her torso. Why had she come down to speak with him in nothing more than her nightgown and wrapper?

“Sit down, Caro.” He ran one hand through his hair, already disheveled as if he’d been doing that for some time. “I’m sorry. Do you really think this might mean something other than a mindless entertainment for bored ladies?”

Caroline shrugged. “I don’t know. It may well be. Most of the women in that group pretend to be literate, but none of them is a true intellectual. It could be though, that someone is taking advantage of their susceptibility and somehow using them to further his own goals.”

He nodded slowly. “Someone with real power. Yes, it’s possible. Even if it’s unlikely, it’s something I should follow up on. Lord knows I don’t have any other leads. You say this event is tomorrow night?”

Caroline nodded. “The Sorcery Society balls are always on Fridays, according to what I overheard.” She handed over her notebook with the list of members’ names and other bits of information she’d garnered.

Merrick studied the list. “Bingley—I can catch him tomorrow morning at White’s. He’s there every day just in time for luncheon.”

“I’d like to go as well, if I may. Since it’s a masked ball, no one will know who I am. I may be able to pick up things from the ladies that a gentleman might not hear.” Forgetting to clutch her dressing gown closed, she leaned forward, both her hands flat on his desk.

“Absolutely not. This may be a harmless fancy dress party, but as you say, it may not. If there truly is magick at work, you could be in danger.”

“Nonsense.” She was not about to let him leave her behind. “No more danger than I appear to be in from walking in the park. You’ll need someone to watch your back. And I promise to remain inconspicuous. No one will know I’m the governess if we both remain incognito.”

He barked out a rough laugh. “Caro, I doubt you could be inconspicuous if you were covered in tree bark in the middle of a forest.”

She tipped her head and narrowed her eyes. “Was that meant to be a compliment? It certainly didn’t sound like one.”

“I have no idea.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose with forefinger and thumb. “I think it was just a statement of fact. No matter how hard you try to hide it, you’re a beautiful young woman, and even without your touch of faery glamour, people notice.”

“Maybe I should just cut off my nose or something. Or pray for warts.” She leaned further over the desk and rested her chin on her hands. “A pretty face is nothing but a nuisance.” So why was she delighted that he found her attractive, even without the so-called magick?

Merrick winced. “And now you can add me to the list of employers who’ve behaved badly toward you. I’m sorry for the other night, Caro. I promise, it won’t happen again.”

She felt her face heat, knew she was blushing red as an apple. “That was different. It was…mutual, not an act of force. I don’t hold you responsible for anything, Merrick.” There was no way she could tell him his kiss had been one of the most astounding experiences of her life—perhaps the best.

“Still, you have my apologies.” He opened and closed his mouth as if he’d started to say something but thought better of it.

A wicked thought occurred to her and she fluttered her lashes in an exaggerated manner. “Then you may express your remorse by taking me with you to the Sorcery Society ball.”

“Absolutely not.” He stood and leaned over the desk, hands planted on either side of her shoulders, forcing her to tip her neck back at an awkward angle to look up at him. This close she could smell him—male skin, with just a hint of shaving lotion and good tobacco. She’d never seen him smoke, so she assumed it was someone he’d been with at his club.

Caroline shrugged. “Fine. I’ll send a note to Mr. MacKay. I assume he’ll know someone who can procure us tickets. He wanted to escort me to the theatre tomorrow, but I’m sure I’ll find this much more entertaining.”

“No.” The word started as a rumble deep in his chest and burst out with explosive force.

Caroline didn’t draw back, just held his gaze with her own. “I will be attending.”

He glowered. “You work for me, remember? I said no.”

“I’ll resign, if that’s what it takes.” She wouldn’t of course. Leaving those children was unthinkable.

“If you resign, I won’t be your employer.”

“So?”

Triumph sang in his slow, smug smile. “So then I can do this.” His action was so swift she barely saw him move before he’d dragged her up onto the desk, scattering books and papers left and right as her skirts slid across the polished surface. At the end, she knelt at the far edge of the desk with him standing in front of her, so close she could hear his heartbeat.

Caroline squeaked. That was all the sound she could get out before his lips came down on hers. Immediately, she stopped fighting him and wound her arms around his neck, kissing him back. When he slipped his tongue along her lips, she opened for him. She’d read about this, imagined it, but neither had done justice to the sensation of being crushed against Merrick’s chest while his mouth plundered hers.

Her entire body responded to his touch—even her stomach cramped with some kind of need. His hair slid through her fingers, thick and silky, while her other hand pressed against the broad strength of his back. Even through waistcoat and shirt, he radiated warmth. Sliding her hand down his back, feeling the shape of his muscular form, was too much temptation to resist.

His hands weren’t idle either. One cupped the back of her head, holding her in place. The other roamed up and down her spine, then around to settle on her hip before slipping inside her dressing gown to caress her through nothing more than the thin cotton of her nightgown. Instinctively she shifted to the side, allowing him more room to explore, even as she trailed her own fingers down past his belt. The muscles of his bum were every bit as solid as those of his shoulders, and she dug her fingers into the firm flesh through his woolen trousers.

Merrick’s gasp urged her on, even as his hand moved up under her robe to the side of her breast, which felt heavy and tender, almost bruised, but somehow soothed by the glide of his palm. He nibbled at her lips, then slid his mouth down to the column of her throat, and she instinctively arched her neck. The movement put her breast more firmly into his hand and he squeezed lightly, which only made her yearn for more. When his thumb rasped along her nipple and he nipped the tendon at the base of her neck, she let out a broken cry.

Caroline wasn’t a fool—she knew where this was leading. She simply didn’t want it to end. For the first time in her life, she was willing to go where her emotions led. Her fingers trembled as she opened the buttons on his waistcoat and pulled his shirt free of his waistband. Then her hands were there, under his shirt, touching bare, warm flesh, even as he rolled her nipple between fingers and thumb.

She needed to be closer. Scooting forward on the desk, she sat back on her heels so she could widen her knees, allowing Merrick to stand with his hips between them, so she effectively straddled his thighs. When had he untied her dressing gown and pushed it open? Now only his trousers and her flimsy nightgown separated them, making his desire more than obvious where it pressed into her stomach. One of his hands still tormented her breast, while the other made quick work of the buttons at the neck of her nightgown. As soon as it was open, his lips trailed downward, skating across her collarbone, then down into the valley of her sternum before he ran the tip of his tongue around her breast. Finally, he lightly licked her aching nipple.

“Oh!” She arched her back, pressing herself even closer, as if begging for more—embarrassing, but probably true.

Merrick seemed to understand. His lips closed around the sensitive bud and he drew it into the wet heat of his mouth, dragging a moan from deep in Caroline’s throat.

Then she felt his other hand sliding up her thigh—under the hem of her nightgown. His fingertips were callused and rasped slightly on her skin, but his touch was exquisitely gentle. She could do little more than grip what part of him she could reach—his waist with one hand, a shoulder with the other, and spread her knees just a little wider as his hand approached her core.

“Christ, Caro,” he muttered. He pulled his mouth away from her nipple and kissed a line to the center of her chest, speaking a word or two between each kiss. “So lovely. So responsive. So bloody damn tempting.”

She almost cried out with the loss as he stopped suckling her, but he merely moved his head to her other breast, treating it to the same tender attentions.

A moment later, his fingers reached the juncture of her thighs, lightly skimming across the curls there, teasing the skin below. She shifted, leaning back on her elbows, her legs splayed on either side of his, her head thrown back and her center pressed against his hand. He cupped her there with one big hand while he continued to suckle at her breast, now pulling more strongly as his fingers pushed inward, sliding through her damp folds.

“Merrick.” It came out somewhere between a sigh and a whimper.

“Lovely, Caro,” he murmured against her skin, before resuming the glorious suction.

He found the knot of nerves at the top of her sex and massaged it softly, rendering her incapable of speech altogether. She arched into his touch, eyes squeezed shut, and just focused on her other senses. The wet sound of his hand on her quim, the gasps of her own ragged breathing, the scent of his sweat and her own arousal, and oh, heavens, the feel of his mouth and hand, doing things she’d never thought to experience. Pressure built, low in her belly and seemed to be striving toward…something.

“Let go,” Merrick muttered. He switched back to her other breast, allowing the cool air to caress the damp tip he’d just abandoned. “Come for me, Caro.”

Let go. Wasn’t that what she’d been doing? But some part of her understood, and she relaxed her control over her body, letting her hips rise and fall as they wanted to against his hand.

Stars exploded behind her eyelids. Ripples of pleasure coursed from her womb out to every inch of her skin, and her body seemed briefly to be suspended midair—touching nothing but Merrick, anchored only by his strength. He stroked her slowly and kissed his way back to her mouth, taking her lips tenderly as her shudders subsided.

As soon as she could move, she tentatively reached for the buttons on his trousers.

“No.” He dropped one last kiss on her lips, and then stood, pulling her back up to sit on the edge of the desk. His chest heaved with his ragged breathing and his face was sheened with perspiration. With an odd smile, he tucked her dressing gown back around her and tied the sash. “We need to stop now, darling, difficult though it is for both of us.”

“But you…” She glanced down at the extremely prominent bulge beneath his trouser buttons. When she brushed her hand along that rather intimidating ridge, he groaned.

“I’ll survive, I promise.” His wry laugh sounded forced.

“You don’t want me?” His actions seemed at odds with his physical reaction.

“More than anything. But I’ll not take your maidenhead here on my desk, with an unlocked door and a houseful of curious relatives and children.” He smoothed a strand of hair that had escaped from her braid. “What just happened was nothing to be ashamed of, Caro. But if we’d kept on, there could have been…irrevocable consequences.”

“Of course.” Consequences like herself—exactly what she’d always planned to avoid. She gripped his upper arms and inhaled deeply. “Thank you. You’ve more willpower than I do, and I do appreciate it.”

“Whereas I’m already calling myself all kinds of fool.” He dropped a kiss on her nose. “Go to bed, Caro, before my willpower fails completely.”

“Very well.” She leaned her face into his chest for just a second before she pulled back and fastened the buttons on her nightgown. “So does this mean I’m no longer employed?”

“I would take it as a great personal favor if you wouldn’t resign.” He tipped up her chin so she was forced to look into his eyes rather than at his chest. “I’d like to promise this won’t happen again, but we’ve already seen how well that works out.”

“And I’ll remind you again. Everything that just occurred was fully consensual.” Even if that did make her as wanton as her mother. “I don’t want to leave, Merrick. The children need me, and I especially can’t run away when they might be in danger.”

“Then it’s settled. This—whatever the hell this is—has no bearing on your position as governess.” His shoulders relaxed a little, as if he was actually relieved.

“And I am going to that ball tomorrow night. Is that settled as well? I’d rather go with you than with Gideon MacKay.”

He winced, but nodded. “I’ll procure two tickets. Your task will be to find us dominoes and masks. I’m sure there’s something in the attic somewhere. The children will love rummaging around in the old trunks.”

“I’m sure they will.”

“Oh—and in case I forgot to tell you, we have a dinner engagement at Trowbridge’s before the ball. You and Edwin were specifically invited, along with Dorothy and myself. We’ll go directly from there to the ball, so it will have to be dominoes, not regular fancy-dress.”

Caroline blinked in shock. “I’m to go to dinner? A governess, dining with a duke?”

“He is my superior, and you are part of my household. Besides, you liked him well enough to dance with him the other night.” Now he was teasing her, the rat.

She tossed her head and grinned back. “Yes, I did. I promise to behave myself and not to use the wrong fork.”

“Good night, Caroline.”

After giving her clothing one last check, she made her way back to her room. Lying back on her bed, she stared through the dark at the ceiling. Dinner with a duke and duchess. A masked ball. An intimate interlude with Merrick. Caroline wasn’t sure she could ever read a gothic romance again—it seemed she’d fallen head-first into one.

Merrick watched her leave, his body still primed and yearning, though he’d damn near come in his trousers like an untried lad. What the hell was he going to do about Caro?

He locked his study door behind her and poured himself a stiff drink before plopping back into his chair. His desk was a mess, and the scent of lavender and roses still filled the air. Thankfully, he hadn’t had any pens or open ink bottles about. Explaining that to the servants would have been awkward.

He began to reorder his desk with half his mind still on Caroline. She was a puzzle, to be sure, prim and proper one moment, writhing in passion the next. He could barely recall the calm, well-ordered haven his home had been before she’d come into it. Certainly, most of the chaos was due to the children, but the havoc in his mind and soul? That was on her.

The woman was strong, resilient and far too intelligent for her own safety. What was he going to do about her? Clearly he couldn’t trust himself to be alone with her. It would be difficult to face her the next day without remembering the sight and feel of her falling apart in his arms. And yet, he had a promise to keep, if only because he knew she’d stick to her vow to get MacKay to take her to the ball instead.

Merrick jotted off a note to Albert Bingley, asking him to meet at White’s the following morning, and set the missive on the hall table. Mountjoy would see it sent off first thing, probably before Merrick was even awake.

Drink in hand, he made his way upstairs. Again, the refrain echoed through his brain. What the hell was he going to do about Caro?

Chapter Ten

Butterflies tumbled in Caroline’s stomach as she curtseyed to the Duke and Duchess of Trowbridge. Their townhouse—mere blocks from Buckingham Palace—glittered with candlelight from gilded chandeliers along with gas-powered wall sconces. The pink marble floor of the foyer was veined with gold, and burgundy velvet chairs with gilded legs were scattered about invitingly. Her host and hostess welcomed her warmly as she stood between Dorothy and Mr. Berry in the receiving line.

“We’re so glad you could make it, Miss Bristol.” Her grace squeezed Caroline’s hand warmly.

“You’ll be sure to save me a dance, now, won’t you dear?” The duke gave her a friendly smile. “I’ll try not to step on your toes this time.”

“I’m sure you’ve never done such a thing in your life.” Caroline smiled back, put at ease. “I’d be delighted, your grace.”

“Except, we have another engagement right after dinner, so can’t stay for the dancing,” Merrick reminded her, from his place ahead of Dorothy. “Next time, sir.”

“Ah, thrown over for a younger man.” The duke winked. “Take care of her, Hadrian. She owes me a dance.”

They moved into the ballroom, where the guests were gathering before the meal. Caroline felt the curious gazes of strangers as she entered on Merrick’s arm. In her daringly cut, bronze-and-ivory evening gown, held wide over hoops, ivory kid gloves and satin dancing slippers, she felt like a princess. Sally had piled Caroline’s hair in an intricate arrangement, decked with ivory silk roses and bronze ribbons to match the gown. Her only jewelry was her mother’s seed pearl necklace and earrings, and she carried an ivory fan, borrowed from Dorothy, at her insistence.

The hairs on the back of her neck twitched as Mr. Berry glared at her. They hadn’t informed him or Dorothy of their foray to the Sorcery ball—just that they had a trail to follow regarding the case, which was why they’d come in two separate carriages.

Merrick went off to fetch beverages, while Dorothy introduced Caroline to a number of friends. She’d met a few at the library, and more at the MacKays’ dinner party, but dread still curled in her stomach. What if she ran into a former employer?

A mechanical servant glided through the room on soundless wheels, offering canapés to the guests, and Caroline instinctively shrank back from the machine, lest she inadvertently damage it. She tripped on a flounce of her trailing skirt and stumbled, knocking herself into the gentleman standing behind her.

Caroline whirled, her face warm with embarrassment. “How clumsy of me. I’m so terribly sorry, sir.”

“It’s nothing,” the gentleman said absently. He was perhaps five years older than Caroline, already balding and with a notable paunch. He turned back to his companion—a pinch-faced woman of maybe twenty-five, who glared down her nose at Caroline. A tendril of fear slithered down Caroline’s spine. It couldn’t be.

“Ah, Buckley,” Dorothy said with a small laugh. “Have you met my dear friend Caroline Bristol? Caro, this is the Viscount and Lady Buckley.”

Caroline dropped her face and curtseyed. “Pleased to meet you, my lady, my lord. Again, I apologize for my clumsy feet.”

“You!”

Oh, gracious, he’d recognized her. Caroline straightened and looked her cousin in the eye. “Good evening, Cousin Victor.” Victor Buckman, Viscount Buckley, heir to the Earl of Woodmere. Caroline’s first cousin and the bane of her childhood.

She felt, rather than saw, Merrick skid to a stop beside her. He must have passed the glasses off to someone else, for his hand settled on the small of her back. “Buckley,” he said through his teeth. “Of course.” He gave the barest hint of a nod at Victor and his wife.

Lady Buckley sniffed and turned aside to speak with someone else.

Victor just sneered. “Hadrian. Knew you were a barbarian, but I never thought you’d try to pass off that kind of trash as a lady,” Victor sneered. “Bringing your fancy piece to the ducal residence? How crass.”

Dorothy stood staunchly on Caroline’s other side and raised one eyebrow. “As crass as causing a scene in someone else’s ballroom? How odd.”

“The lady is my aunt’s friend and a guest in my home,” Merrick said coldly enough to make Caroline shiver. “And as such, she is under my protection. You will treat her accordingly.”

Oh, that’s going to happen. Victor would pluck the wings off flies, just for fun. Being remotely civil to Caroline was outside the realm of his abilities.

“Bet she didn’t even tell you her real name. Bristol, indeed.” Victor sniffed loudly, playing to the gawking crowd that had gathered around them. “Chit’s name is Buckman, to the family’s shame. Nothing but my dear aunt’s shiftless bastard.”

“I took the name Bristol because your beloved father made it clear I wasn’t allowed to sully the glorious Buckman family name.” Nobody paid a whit of attention to her, though Merrick’s fingers may have tightened a little against her stays. Gideon MacKay and his parents, along with Mr. Gavin, joined the group surrounding her and Merrick, lending her their silent support.

“Oh, I suspect most of our noble houses have a pillar or two born on the wrong side of the blanket.” The duke had appeared at Dorothy’s elbow, his duchess on his arm. “It’s always seemed to me that there’s no shame to the child in such situations—only to the family for how they treat them.”

Victor sputtered. “Breeding shows. My cousin is certainly no better than her harlot of a mother.”

“Yet she isn’t the one misbehaving in my home,” the duchess chimed in gently. “Now gather your wits, Lord Buckley, and cease causing a scene. We’re about to be seated for dinner.”

“If she’s staying, I certainly am not.” Victor lifted his chin. “I do have some standards regarding my dinner companions.”

Caroline felt the weight of every stare in the ballroom, some pitying, more censorious. Merrick’s hand at her spine gave her the courage to hold her head high as she turned to the duchess. “Your grace, I’d be happy to leave if you’d prefer it. It was never my intention to disrupt your lovely evening.”

“Nonsense.” The duchess nodded sharply. “Now come along. I’ve seated you right near me so we can chat. Dorothy tells me you’re a connoisseur of literature. I’d love to hear your thoughts on Mrs. Browning’s latest collection. There are some who argue her husband is the better poet, but you’ll never convince me of that.” She took her husband’s arm and turned toward an open archway that revealed an enormous dining table. “Merrick, bring her along if you please.” The sound of her heels clacking on the inlaid wooden floor galvanized the rest of the room into motion. The others lined up in order of rank, except for Merrick and Caroline, who took their place directly behind their host and hostess at her insistence.

Several couples did leave, but not many. Footmen hurriedly removed place settings and chairs, creating more elbow room for those remaining. The meal was awkward for everyone. Caroline barely touched her food and many of the diners pointedly ignored her, though their hostess chatted with her and Merrick throughout the six-course repast. When the ladies retired, Merrick went to collect their cloaks, while Caroline took her leave of the duchess.

“We’ll see you again soon, dear. Thank you so much for coming.” Then the older woman placed a quick kiss on Caroline’s cheek. The duke himself saw them out the door.

By the time they reached the carriage, Caroline’s head was spinning.

“Do you want to go home?” As soon as the carriage rolled away from the ducal gates, Merrick took Caroline’s hand and turned to face her. “Are you all right?”

Caroline paused to consider, then looked up at him and nodded. The tingle was there, but she was learning to ignore it from time to time and maintain some dignity. “I’m fine. You’re not getting out of taking me to that ball. And now you know my real name is Buckman.”

“Yes, well, Bristol has a much nicer sound to it. I hope you know how difficult it was not to smash the weasel’s face in.” He sounded for all the world like a sulky ten-year-old, and Caroline laughed for the first time all night.

“My hero,” she teased. “Would you really have hit him for me?”

“Can you doubt it?” With that, he tugged her into his arms and kissed her. There was no gentleness this time, just hunger and possession which was even more exciting.

What happened last night had been the single most glorious, erotic moment of her life, if a little embarrassing in retrospect. She’d lain awake all last night, reliving it over and over again. Never once in her life had she lost control of herself like that. Caroline was very afraid that she’d utterly forfeited her battle against falling in love with her employer. Kissing him now brought back all those sensations, making her crave him all over again, and it was clear that she wouldn’t resist. If Merrick continued trying to seduce her, sooner or later she would be his, and Caroline doubted her heart would ever be whole again.

When they finally stopped, both were breathing heavily and Caroline’s heart pounded in her chest, and she had to fight just to speak with a semblance of equanimity. “Very well. I promise not to doubt your protective instincts again. Now, we need to get into our dominoes and masks.” She reached for the box that had been stowed beneath the seat.

“Rather than getting out of the rest of our clothing,” he grumbled.

“In a carriage? Surely not.” Her heart raced at the idea, but she forced herself to breathe normally while she pulled two black silk masks off the top of the pile and set them aside. Beneath them was a pair of the voluminous black hooded cloaks called dominoes, which would function as disguises for the ball. Merrick helped her fasten the smaller of the two around her shoulders, and then she clasped the other around his, which he took as an opportunity to pull her down for another kiss.

“You really need to stop doing that.” She only wished she meant what she said. What she wanted to say was closer to, never stop doing that.

“Right.” Should she be glad he didn’t sound as though he believed it either? Instead they picked up their masks and tied them on, then lifted the hoods of their dominoes.

When they reached the assembly room where the ball was being held, Merrick handed her down from the carriage and they made a few last minute adjustments. Caroline’s skirts showed, as the lace-trimmed lady’s cloak was cut waist-length, concealing her shoulders, but showing off the quality of her bodice and skirts. Merrick’s domino, though fell to his knees, baring nothing but his dark evening trousers, identical to those of almost every man in society. Conversely, his mask only covered his eyes and nose, revealing his strong chin, while hers had lace veiling suspended down to cover her entire face. Once everything was in place, Merrick took her arm and led her up the stairs to the door, tickets prominently carried in his other hand.

“Remember,” he murmured in her ear. “Stay close. We’ve no idea what we’re likely to find in here.”

“I will.”

With a smile and a nod, the doorman took their tickets and motioned them inside where they discovered the ball already in full swing. Costumed ladies and gentlemen whirled about the dimly lit dance floor while others stood on the sidelines sipping champagne and chattering. The orchestra was a human one, playing in a minor key, casting an eerie note over the ballroom, in conjunction with the flickering light of candles. Not a single gas lamp burned, except for those outside the front door.

“It’s certainly…atmospheric,” Caroline noted as they made their way toward the refreshments table. Since that was located on the opposite side of the room, it gave them an excuse to circle the dancers.

“Yes, but I’m not feeling any genuine magick.” He leaned down so close she could feel his breath, even through the hood of her domino. “I recognize a few of the men and one or two women, but no one with half the power of a pocket watch.”

“You can tell?” There was so much about magick, and about Merrick, that she didn’t know.

He nodded. “It’s one of the gifts inherent to the Knights—also how I knew Tommy had Order potential, and that some of the other children were gifted—and you as well.”

Gifted. Not how she’d ever thought of herself. Cursed would have been more like it.

They reached the other side of the room without being spoken to by anyone, though a few of the men looked at Merrick as if they recognized him. When they reached the champagne fountain, however, a gentleman approached Merrick and held out his hand.

“Sir Merrick, I’m so glad to see you could make it.” Dressed as a court jester, the man wore a minimal mask, leaving most of his face visible. He appeared young, thinner and shorter than Merrick, with the refined drawl of an aristocrat.

“Wouldn’t miss it. Apparently it’s all the ladies are talking about these days.” Merrick shook the other man’s hand, then turned to Caroline. “Miss Bristol is a friend of Aunt Dorothy’s here to help us adjust to having my new wards in the household. Caro, this is Mr. Albert Bingley—youngest son of Baron Rothburn. He arranged for our admissions this evening.”

Caroline dropped into a minor curtsey—suitable for someone of noble breeding but untitled himself. “My thanks, then, Mr. Bingley. It was I who begged Sir Merrick to obtain tickets. All the ladies I’ve met are atwitter about your Society.” She did her best to sound vapid and excitable.

“Well, all things occult are in vogue, aren’t they? One of the musicians is a werewolf, if you can believe it. Handles himself like a gentleman, of course, or we wouldn’t let him in. You may even meet an actual vampyre on the dance floor.” He winked suggestively. “I wouldn’t suggest a walk in the moonlight with one of those.”

She was glad her mask hid her smirk, even while she fluttered her lashes. “Oh, my, how terrifying.” She thought she heard Merrick snort.

The music stopped, then began again in the opening strains of a Schottische, and Caroline allowed Mr. Bingley to lead her out to the dance floor.

Merrick watched Caroline with Bingley and had to work to keep his eyes and ears on the gathering as a whole rather than on where the young fop put his hands. He’d told her to stick with him, but he was convinced now there was no need. So far, nothing in this room registered as genuine power. There were fortune tellers in another chamber and he wandered through that, noting the palmists and card readers. One or two might have a trace of genuine talent, but not many, and not much. Nothing here indicated a serious threat, much less any connection to his case. With that in mind, he moved back to Caro and motioned that he was leaving the ballroom.

The card room was filled with gentleman who didn’t care to dance. Most in here had removed their masks, so Merrick tossed back his hood and stuffed the silk eye mask in his pocket. Smiling negligently, he approached one of the tables, sliding into an empty chair across from an acquaintance.

“Wouldn’t have expected you here,” said Alexander Saunders, the dilettante grandson of a marquis. “Unless you’ve picked up a mistress or a wife. This place is more for the ladies.” He dealt a hand of piquet and named the stakes.

Merrick agreed to the stakes absently and picked up his hand. “House guest—a friend of m’aunt’s,” he grunted as they began to play. “Mother went to school with Dorothy, I think. Anyway, she heard about the place from some other chits in the library, of all bloody places. Had to see what it was all about.”

“Nothing real here, you know.” Saunders took the first trick. “Bunch of silly hocus-pocus to impress the ladies. Couple actors in white face paint with false fangs. Load of horseshit, if you ask me, but the wife likes to come and pretend it’s frightening.”

Merrick took the second trick and offered the other man a cheroot while he tapped the points into the scoring device. With a gesture, he summoned a waiter who refilled Saunders’s drink, at Merrick’s expense. Several tricks later, Saunders was winning by a hair, and beginning to be well lubricated.

“Now the real deal is tomorrow night.” He sucked on the cheroot and blew a smoke ring.

Merrick raised one eyebrow. “Real thing? Bollocks.”

“No, seriously. Not the kind of place you take your wife, or a family friend, mind you. But if you’ve got a fancy piece tucked away who likes the occult? You wouldn’t believe what goes on at Arcanum.”

“Arcanum? What an original name for a brothel.” Merrick let Saunders win another trick. “Or is it an opium den?”

“Neither, I swear. It’s a club, but with real magick. The owners are all men of power, though they guarantee the games are clean. I tell you, there’s nothing like it. No dancing, just gambling and some private rooms, mind you. If you want to hire a wizard, that’s available there too, as well as potions, powders and other business transactions.”

Merrick shrugged and had the waiter refill the other man’s drink. “Sounds like it might be interesting. Think you can get me an invitation?”

Saunders laughed. “A tenner at the door is the usual invitation. Drinks and food aren’t cheap, and the play is deep.”

“Sounds a hell of a lot better than this place.” Itching to check on Caro, Merrick finished the game, letting Saunders win by a few points. Then he paid the man off and stood. “Thanks for the game, chum. And the information.”

“See you there, eh, mate?” Saunders settled back to count his winnings, a feat made difficult by his state of inebriation. Merrick went back to the ballroom to look for Caro.

There she was, in the middle of the dance floor, dancing with a pallid man in a black domino. His lips were painted bright red and large, pointed canine teeth overhung the lower lip. Caro moved gracefully through the steps of the Polonaise, smiling politely up at her partner. Her relative ease told Merrick she knew this was no real undead. As the music wound to an end, he moved to the very edge of the dance floor, catching up with her as her partner led her toward the open French doors to the terrace.

“I believe this dance belongs to me, my lady?”

She giggled. “Of course, Sir Merrick.” With a curtsey and a smile, she waved off her previous partner. “Thank you so much for the dance, dread sir.”

Once they moved onto the dance floor and began to waltz, she muttered under her breath. “He positively stank of rice powder and lip rouge. His eyes were lined with kohl. What utter nonsense.”

“This is as false as I’d suspected,” Merrick confirmed. “As soon as this dance is over, I’d like to leave, if that’s all right with you.”

“We can leave now if you like.”

Her body moved with his as if the two of them were two halves of an intricate machine, designed specifically to fit together in the closest possible way. He couldn’t resist this opportunity to hold her in public. “After the dance.”

In the carriage on the way home, he deliberately sat across from Caro rather than next to her to reduce the possibility of temptation while he told her what he’d learned. “I’ll go tomorrow night and see what I can learn.”

“Of course we will.” She calmly folded her domino and laid it back into its box.

“You will not. This isn’t a place for ladies, Caro. It’s not much better than a brothel from the sound of it.” Merrick laid his domino on top of hers then crossed his arms over his chest, determined not to be swayed.

“So oy won’t be a loydy then, guv.” She did a dead-on imitation of Jamie’s accent. “There were wigs in the attic trunks—and if I dress the part, no one will know I’m not a ladybird.”

“Absolutely not.” Even in the dark, he glared at her.

“I’ll ask Mr. MacKay.” He felt her stare back, heard the toe of her slipper tapping on the floor.

“I’ll lock you in your bedroom.”

“I can pick a lock, you knob. I shan’t be left behind.”

“Be reasonable, Caro. I’m trained for this sort of thing. You’re not.”

“But you’re not invulnerable, are you? You need someone to watch your back. And you already said you can’t trust anyone in your organization.”

“No, but I do have friends at Scotland Yard. I can ask one of them to go as well.” He thought immediately of Liam McCullough, the young werewolf constable. His age and family wealth would make him a prime candidate for that kind of establishment.

“Can either of you go in the women’s retiring room, which is the best place in the world to hear gossip?” Her words were rational, but her tone was pure mulishness.

“No. I’m not going to discuss it any further.”

“We’ll see.” He could just about see her toss her head as they lapsed into silence for the remainder of the trip.

“If you try to send me home, I’ll just follow in a hack.”

Merrick scowled across the carriage. Caroline had been waiting inside when he entered after dinner the following evening. One look at her showed an entirely different appearance than he’d seen before. Gone was the mousy governess or even the elegant young lady. This Caro was a siren in emerald velvet with her waist corseted to an impossibly tiny span, her breasts pushed up invitingly, and her décolletage showing a disturbing amount of flesh. A mass of red curls hid her golden hair, in a disheveled arrangement that left several long corkscrews trailing across her milky shoulders. Kohl, powder and rouge had been applied expertly, altering the shape of her eyes and cheeks, while a black beauty mark made her mouth look wider. Not even Dorothy would recognize her at a glance.

“Where the hell did you get that dress?”

“It turns out Becky is a dab hand with a needle. The gown is an old one of your aunt’s, with some lace added from one of the even older ones in the attic. Wink and Nell did the makeup and hair.”

“I suppose they’ve seen more than one light skirt where they come from.” It was the nearest he was about to come to a compliment. They stared one another down until Merrick sighed in defeat. “Oh, hell. I suppose I’m lucky they didn’t demand to come along as well.”

Caro laughed. “They thought about it. I may have resorted to bribery to keep them at home.”

“Bribery?”

“Ice cream on tomorrow’s outing—which is to be an all-day venture to the British Museum. A trip to the circus sometime in the next few weeks. And an extra hour of free time in the afternoon for the rest of this week.”

“Shame on you for spoiling them.” He laughed himself, though silently.

“We both know they could do with a bit of that. Part of me wants to wrap them in cotton wool, after all they’ve been through, but none of them would put up with that for a moment. It’s remarkable, really, surviving as much as they have. Thinking of Piers in a chimney makes my blood curdle, and I shudder to think what could have happened to Nell as a flower seller.” Or may have already happened. The children had by no means divulged all their secrets to either Merrick or Caro.

“Me too.” He cleared his throat. “But enough about that. You’re determined to come along tonight?”

“Utterly.” Her chin set and she crossed her arms under her generous display of bosom.

“Then you will promise not to leave my side, not for a minute. If you need to use the convenience, I will walk with you to the retiring room and wait outside the door. Is that clear?”

She snapped a salute. “Aye, sir.”

“And for God’s sake, be careful not to fall out of that gown.”

It was all he could do not to wrap her in his own coat as they walked up the steps to the house in a less desirable neighborhood than he would have liked. This was a street where a well-to-do merchant might set up a long-term mistress, or an exclusive madam might establish her business.

“I’ll be careful, Merrick. You have my promise.” She pitched her voice so low and sultry, the sound of it went straight to his groin, which was already reacting to her state of dress—or more accurately, undress. It was liable to be a very long night.

Swallowing his trepidation, he slipped the doorman a folded bill and ushered her inside.

The magick hit him as soon as he stepped through the doors. This was like walking into a brick wall, then somehow managing to wade through it, even as it hammered at the senses. Caro must have felt him stagger—she gripped his arm even more tightly.

“Are you all right?” She sniffed and grimaced, probably a little disturbed by the overpowering odor of incense.

“Yes.” Once they were into the foyer, the disturbance lessened. Wards, he thought, designed to keep out anyone with power, except for those the wards were keyed to.

“Welcome to Arcanum.” A gleaming brass automaton butler waited in the center of the foyer and bowed as he spoke in a deep, ringing tone that brought to mind church bells at midnight. “The cloakroom is on your right. To your left is the main parlor, and the card room is behind me on the right. Once you’ve made yourselves comfortable, further enjoyments can be arranged for at the bar in the main parlor. Thank you for visiting Arcanum this evening.”

They obediently deposited their cloaks and umbrellas, with a live servant this time, before moving into the main parlor. It wasn’t terribly crowded—no more than fifteen or twenty people in a room that could have held fifty. It clearly ran the length of the house, with French doors opening into a garden in back. Again, incense and magick hung in the air, making Merrick glad his inborn gifts included immunity to most spells. Next to him, Caro licked her rouged lower lip and breathed heavily.

A long oak bar filled the front of the room, so Merrick headed there first. Wines and liquors lined the shelf behind the bar and a small pasteboard note indicated that food could be arranged upon request. Merrick ordered two glasses of a moderate wine and leaned back against the bar as he surveyed the crowd. On a small dais in one corner was a string trio playing something exotic and haunting.

Caro caused a stir as they walked in. Every male head in the room turned to study her scantily clad form. One started to approach but backed off at Merrick’s glare. He held her close to his side, letting everyone in the place know in no uncertain terms that this beauty belonged to him.

“Two MPs,” he murmured to Caro, letting his hand drift up to the side of her breast rather than staying sedately at her waist as another would-be lothario began to move closer. “And those aren’t their wives.” Both men in question were openly making love in the main parlor to much younger women. A young earl in the far corner was being pleasured by a blonde and a brunette, his trousers hanging open as the brunette knelt between his legs.

“Do people really do that?” Caroline’s breathless tone caught Merrick’s attention even as the barman handed him their drinks. He sampled one, found it undoctored, and handed it to Caro. “She’s licking his…”

“Yes, she is. And yes, he’s most certainly enjoying it.” The lordling’s head was thrown back and the blonde leaned over him, letting him suckle her generous teats.

“Oh, my!” Well, he’d warned Caro she’d be getting an education tonight. “And in public.”

“For some, the idea of being seen makes it all the more exciting.” Merrick had never considered himself a voyeur, but he couldn’t help imagining himself and Caro in some of those poses, which meant he’d gone hard as a brick.

“How odd.” Her face was bright pink, and she fanned herself vigorously. “I think that man’s a banker—he used to visit my old employer, Mr. Wemberly.”

Merrick followed her gaze to where a well-heeled cit bounced a redhead on his lap. Caroline’s breathing was growing shorter and shallower. He didn’t know if she was being affected by what she saw, or…

“Damn it, there’s a sex spell in this room.” Time to get her out of here. He’d forgotten that the sidhe were more susceptible to certain spells than even the average human. While Merrick was safe from the magick, he wasn’t immune to either the visual stimulation going on around him, or to the knowledge of Caro’s arousal. He raised his voice and turned to the barman, who was trying to look down Caro’s dress. “So what are these special services we’re supposed to see you about? Just want to find out what’s available before we make our plans for the evening.”

“Let’s see, private rooms are the most popular,” the man said, ticking things off on his fingers. “With or without special…equipment. We can provide an extra woman—or man, if your tastes swing that way. Meals. Turkish baths. Private meeting rooms for business. Those don’t have the same, well, ahm-bye-ance as in here.” Merrick took that to mean the sex spell was lifted in the business rooms.

“Sounds like a good selection. Come on, dovie, let’s go see the gaming room while we make up our minds.” He tucked his arm through Caro’s and started pulling her toward the door.

“All right.” She moved alongside him, her barely-covered breast rubbing against his upper arm with each step. Based on her little gasps of pleasure, it was probably intentional. Damn, she was enough to tempt a saint—which Merrick certainly wasn’t.

Unfortunately, the sex spell wasn’t diminished in the gaming room, which occupied most of the other side of the house. Another fifteen or so patrons and their companions were in here, some gathered around the central roulette wheel and some playing cards at various tables. Merrick paused in the doorway to get a sense of the magick in the room. If anything, it was even stronger—as if there were a second spell augmenting the first. This room had a piano in the corner, and a woman in little more than a corset and stockings sat atop it, singing.

“Some of the women are gambling, aren’t they? Is it fun?”

Merrick gritted his teeth. The second spell was no doubt to encourage reckless wagering. “Some people think so.”

“Should we try it? Or should we do what they’re doing?” She pointed to a couple kissing on a sofa along the side of the room.

Hell, was that Gideon MacKay? Merrick pulled her back out into the hallway. “You know, love, I think we can just go home and make our own magick.” He’d come back tomorrow, during daylight hours, to investigate the place. Clearly there was real magick here, and clearly Caro was at risk, which was unacceptable. With that, he nearly dragged her out the front door, barely remembering to stop and grab their coats as they left.

A few minutes later they were back in Merrick’s carriage, and Caroline had climbed into Merrick’s lap.

“You know that there was a lust spell in that building?” He was trying to be an honorable man, though he was fighting a losing battle with his own desire—especially when her fingers undid his cravat and began to work on his shirt studs. What was it about this one woman that made him forget all his principles?

“I don’t care. I’ve wanted this for days.” She shoved her hands under his shirt, running her fingers through his sparse chest hair, and brought her lips down on his.

He was lost. Their tongues dueled as she smoothed her hands across his chest. Merrick pushed her cape off her shoulders, then slid the short puffed sleeves of her gown down her arms, baring the entire expanse of her upper body. It was short work then, to lift one breast out over the top of her corset, to pluck and roll the swollen nipple between his fingers.

Her knees straddled his thighs, and she ground down against his erection. There were far too many layers of clothing between them, but Merrick ached to feel her warm damp flesh over his. He started to slip his free hand under the hoop of her skirt, when the carriage jolted to a grinding halt, nearly catapulting Caro out of his arms and onto the floor.

“Attackers!” Debbins kicked the wall separating the inside of the coach from the driver’s box.

Instantly, Merrick set Caro down beside him on the seat. “Stay here.” Unconcerned about his state of undress, he pulled a small box from under the seat and took out a pair of revolvers. One he held in his right hand, the other he held out toward Caroline. “Do you know how to use this?”

“A little. I’ve shot one, but it’s been years.” Still she held it properly when she reached for it, so Merrick nodded.

“Use it if you need to, but try not to hit me or Debbins.” Then he moved back the curtain and looked out, taking stock. There was one black shadow on this side of the carriage, holding the horses. Pistol in one hand, unsheathed sword-stick in the other, Merrick eased open the door and slipped out into the night.

Caroline sat on the floor of the coach and tried to breathe. One moment she and Merrick had been on the verge of making love and now they were under attack. The coach rattled and shook as shouts and shots mingled with crashes and thuds. She set the pistol carefully aside to right her corset and bodice. Once she was covered, she picked it up again and moved to open the curtain on the window to the driver’s box.

There were at least three of them attacking Merrick and Debbins, who was still on the box, an empty pistol by his side, wielding his whip. As she watched, a dark figure leapt from the ground up to Debbins, clawing at him with…talons?

Vampyres!

Caroline eased open the glass and shot the creature in the head as it reared back to bite the coachman. The force of the shot flung it back off the coach. While she didn’t think that would kill the monster, at least it might slow the thing down.

“Thanks, miss.” Debbins flicked his whip at another, only to have the undead creature rip the weapon from his hand, almost pulling him from the box. Seeing the direction, Caroline braced the pistol on the window opening and shot at that monster as well, her bullet catching it in the leg. Again, she may not have killed it, but it did fall down. A moment later, Merrick ran to it and stabbed it through the heart with his sword stick. The vampyre instantly crumbled to dust.

“Good shooting, miss.”

“Here—you can see them better than I can.” She handed the revolver through the window. Debbins immediately turned and fired.

Something thudded hard against the doors of the coach, and Caroline saw the handle begin to turn. She scooted against the far wall and reached for Merrick’s large, black umbrella, with its steel-tipped ebony shaft. Wood—that was supposed to hurt the undead, wasn’t it? She held the umbrella in both hands. When the door was wrenched away, something dark and foul-smelling launched itself inside. She raised the makeshift weapon and shoved with all her strength.

“Caroline!” She heard Merrick shout, heard the slap of running feet.

With a horrid shriek of pain or anger, the vampyre impaled itself along the cloth-wrapped ebony shaft. When Caroline shoved again, it teetered in the doorway, finally losing its footing to topple to the ground. Merrick loomed above it and stabbed it again, slightly to the left of where the umbrella stuck out of its chest. This one dissolved more slowly into a malodorous puddle of rotted flesh.

“That’s the last of them.” Merrick’s chest heaved as he looked up at Debbins. “You all right?”

“Aye, sir, thanks to the lady.”

Merrick’s gaze bore into Caroline’s in the dim light of the streetlamps. “Caroline—are you hurt?”

“Not at all.” She bit her lower lip to keep it from quivering.

“Good then. If you’ll just give me a moment.” He muttered something, used a gesture, and in moments, the remains of the vampyre were gone in a puff of smoke. “There are several others to deal with.” His heels clacked on the macadam as he circled the carriage, muttering. Then he returned and swung himself back in, this time seating himself across from her. “Home with all speed, Debbins.”

“Aye, sir.” He whistled the horses into motion and Caroline closed the window between the inside of the coach and the driver’s box.

“Merrick, I’m sorry…” she began.

“I apologize…” he said at the same time.

“I wasn’t myself…”

“There was a spell…”

Finally they both stopped trying to talk and just stared at each other, both still breathing raggedly.

“You gave Debbins your gun.”

“He was in a better position to use it.”

Merrick sighed. “I don’t know whether to thank you or spank you. The vampyre he shot with that pistol would have ripped my throat out—it was two on one. But you ignored my instructions and left yourself vulnerable, which infuriates me.”

His protectiveness warmed away a little of the cold dread generated by the attack. “I did what I thought was right. I won’t apologize for that.”

“No, you wouldn’t.” A smile flitted over his face as he reached across and took her hands in his. “You handled yourself well, Caro. Though I foresee a huge increase in my umbrella budget as long as you remain in the household.”

“Thank you.” She didn’t let go of his hands, but studied his face. “Were you injured?”

“No, thanks to you and Debbins. Six vampyres attacking together—that’s a record number as far as I know. I wonder if our visit to Arcanum triggered the attack, or if it was something else.”

“We’ll have to tell your aunt, and Mr. Berry. They could be at risk as well. And even the children—they don’t go out at night, but we should still take extra precautions.” She gave a shaky laugh. “Damn, I’m still trying to come to grips with it myself. Merrick, we were almost killed.”

“Almost, but we survived. That’s the important thing. And Caro? We will need to discuss that other thing that almost happened tonight as well. Some of it was caused by magick, it’s true, but there’s something else between us that has nothing to do with the spell at Arcanum—something beyond a simple chemical attraction. I behaved badly. You really should slap my face.” Whatever the force that pulled them together, it was growing too strong to resist. Merrick wasn’t even certain he wanted to anymore. All he could think of was Caro in his arms.

Caroline shrugged. “No. I’m sorry I succumbed to the spell, but—I can’t say you’re wrong, either. We’ll simply have to do our best to keep our…emotions under control.”

He snorted. “I’m not precognitive, but even I can see that’s not likely to happen.”

Chapter Eleven

After scrubbing the makeup off her face, Caroline allowed herself the indulgence of a long, hot, bath when she got home. Merrick had shut himself in his study to write down his notes about the club and the attack, as well as pen some messages to be delivered first thing in the morning. Neither of them had said a word, but they’d silently agreed to avoid one another, or so she assumed.

She wasn’t at all sure what to do about her attraction to Merrick. It was like nothing she’d ever felt before, so she had no frame of reference. On the one hand, she’d always prided herself on her exemplary behavior. On the other, she wasn’t likely to ever marry. As long as they were careful to avoid repercussions, there would be no permanent damage done if she indulged in an affair with her employer. Well, except to her heart, of course. But she rather suspected that was already a lost cause.

She’d just finished drying off when she heard Jamie’s screams. It wasn’t the first nightmare he’d had since the night of her arrival, but this one sounded worse—his cries were louder and higher pitched than usual. Hurriedly, she dragged her nightgown over her head and struggled into the sleeves. She grabbed her dressing gown on her way out the door, but didn’t stop to put it on.

Sally had gotten there first, and was comforting the child even as Caroline entered the room, Tommy on her heels. As usual, the children all hurried to his side. When Jamie saw Caroline beside the bed, though, he burst into tears and flung himself into her arms. She held him tightly, stroking his hair. “Shhh, darling. It’s all right. It was only a dream.”

“N-no. It w-was one of…those dreams. You’re alive. I can’t believe you’re alive.” He clutched her tighter and sobbed into her shoulders.

“Well, everyone else should probably head back to bed, eh?”

Caroline turned to see Merrick silhouetted in the door, shirtsleeves rolled up, coat and waistcoat absent altogether.

“Piers can come sleep in my room,” Tommy offered. “Then you can bring Jamie in later. He’ll sleep better if we’re all together, like before.”

“Thank you, Tommy.” Caroline smiled at the young man, then nodded to Piers. “You heard him—off you go. Girls, you too. Back to bed.”

As Jamie’s sobs eased, the other children slipped out, prodded by Sally who discreetly closed the door behind her and the girls. Merrick perched on the iron rail at the foot of the bed, just inches from where Caroline sat on the mattress with Jamie in her lap. When the big man awkwardly eased out a hand to pat the boy’s shoulder and utter, “There, there, lad,” Caroline’s heart crumbled completely. How had she ever thought she stood a chance of resisting him?

For now, though, Jamie was what mattered. When his wrenching sobs dissolved into hiccups and sniffles, Merrick handed her a large white handkerchief, which she used to wipe Jamie’s eyes and convinced him to blow his nose. After a few more moments and a glass of water, he was still pale and frightened, but settled enough to speak.

“Would you like to tell us about the dream, Jamie?” Caroline settled back against the wrought iron bedstead, still holding him close.

“It was the k-kind that come t-true.” He sniffled and looked from Caroline to Merrick with his blue eyes wide and still damp. “The vampyres, they k-killed you. Both of you. Then w-we were all alone again.”

“Were we in the carriage when it happened?” Merrick asked.

Jamie nodded against Caroline’s chest.

“Then it might already have happened, rather than being of the future. We were attacked tonight, but we won, Jamie. The vampyres are gone, and Miss Caro and I survived.” Merrick’s tone was as gentle as Caroline had ever heard it, though his rigid posture still gave evidence of his awkwardness about actually caring for these children.

“R-really?” The boy looked hopefully up at Caroline. “Did you have on a pink dress with flowers on it?”

“No, it was green. But it’s hard to tell color in a dream, isn’t it?” Though she had ordered one in a soft pink with a pattern of darker pink roses on the skirts. A chill ran down her spine.

Jamie shook his head. “No. It will happen again. And you’ll be gone.”

Caroline hugged him tightly. “I promise you, we will be very, very careful. Your dreams are warnings, aren’t they? That means if we’re cautious, we can prevent the bad things from happening—that’s what Wink told me.”

He sighed and shook his head dubiously. “Grown-ups never listen.”

“That’s what happened to your mum, right?” Caroline didn’t like to bring back bad memories, but Jamie so obviously needed to let it out. “She wouldn’t listen, and she died?”

Jamie nodded. “Said such things were talk of the Devil.” He looked up at Caroline. “I’m not bad, am I? I try to be good, but the dreams still come.”

Merrick moved closer, until he could look Jamie right in the eye. “Your dreams aren’t bad, Jamie. They’re a gift—a gift from fate, or God, if you like. They’re meant to help, not harm. Miss Caro and I will be very cautious about driving at night, now that you’ve warned us. You did a good thing, son.”

His little shoulders heaved a sigh of relief. “Thank you, sir. I don’t know what we’d do if something happened to you two.”

“You’d still have Miss Dorothy,” Caroline reminded him. “And Mr. Berry. He is an honorable man, though I know you don’t care for him. Why, even Mr. MacKay would probably come around to help out.”

Jamie shuddered. “Not him. Don’t like him.”

“Really? I thought he was very kind to bring around candy for all of you when we were all feeling low.” Gideon had been a regular visitor after Caroline and the girls had been attacked, and he had, indeed, brought treats for all the children. Caroline had no idea that they hadn’t taken a shine to the pleasant young man. Perhaps it was because they wanted Merrick and Caroline together—that would give them a far greater sense of security. Of course. It was the only answer that made sense.

“He’s asleep,” Merrick murmured a few moments later, before anyone had thought of anything else to say. “I’ll carry him over to Tommy’s room, then if you have a minute, I think we need to discuss this.”

“Of course.” She handed the sleeping child—he really was out like a light, even after just a few seconds—into Merrick’s arms, and drew on her wrapper as she stood. “Let me get the door for you.”

Tommy was in the middle of the double bed in his room, reading silently while Piers snored quietly on one side of him. Once Merrick laid Jamie in the empty spot, Tommy pulled the covers up and laid his book aside. “Thank you, sir, miss. Good night.”

“You’re a good big brother, Tommy,” Caroline said. “Good night.” With that, she followed Merrick from the room. To her surprise, he didn’t take her to the sitting room where they’d talked before. Instead, he walked right into her bedroom and settled himself in the easy chair by the window.

At a complete loss, Caroline closed the door behind her and pulled the small desk chair over so she could sit facing Merrick, their knees mere inches apart.

He ran his hand through his hair and sighed. “One of the things I promised when the children agreed to come here was that no one would beat them. You see, then, how your teaching methods, unorthodox though they may be, were a godsend. And even Edwin has been made completely clear regarding that issue—you have my word on that. Another promise I made was that if something ever happened to me, they’d still be taken care of. It occurs to me I’ve been very lax in addressing that issue.” He looked so tired—more so than Caroline had ever seen him.

She laid one hand on his knee. “Well, in your defense, it’s only been a couple of weeks. And surely, you know your aunt would see to them in an emergency. She won’t admit it, but she quite dotes on them already.”

“Of course she would, but that’s where we have trouble with the law. According to the courts, a woman may not be named guardian of a minor. Not even the child’s mother, sad to say. So my aunt would have no legal standing. Likewise, I can’t leave them in your care—the other obvious choice.”

Her? He thought she was an obvious choice? Caroline could do little more than blink in stunned silence.

“Edwin would be another possibility, of course, and I’d have no qualms leaving Tom under his guardianship, but he hasn’t any patience with the younger boys, and definitely not the girls.”

“No—I can’t see that being a comfortable arrangement for anyone.” Though Berry seemed to be an adequate teacher for Tommy, Caroline still didn’t like the man.

Merrick nodded grimly. “Thus ends another option. I had thought perhaps Sir William MacKay—but he’s not a young man. Perhaps his older son Fergus—you haven’t met him, but he’s a good, honorable man, and a close friend of mine. The problem is, he’s a Knight as well, and spends most of his time in Edinburgh. For a while I was thinking Gideon might be a possibility, but if the children don’t like him, then no. Honestly, I also think he’s still too young and busy sowing his wild oats.”

“Really?” Caroline wondered at the frown on Merrick’s face. Did he not like Gideon either? How odd. “I hadn’t gotten that impression from him, but you’re right, he is quite young. Still, it seems to me you have a more simple solution than you realize.”

“I do?” He lifted one eyebrow in that way she had already begun to love.

“Of course. You talk to Sir William, and possibly to his elder son. You explain that while one of them would be the children’s legal guardian and financial trustee, your wish is that they remain with Dorothy, and a staff of her choosing. I believe Sir William would honor such a promise, don’t you?”

He smiled and laughed. “Of course he would. Thank you, for being able to see the forest instead of just the trees. You’re right. As long as England must maintain such arbitrary laws, that is the best possible solution. Hadrian House is entailed, and goes with the title, and the estate, of course, but the money is mostly my own, so I’ll be able to leave them well set up. Dorothy is already independently wealthy—she’s actually quite a wizard with investments.”

“Well, then, you see? A quick visit with your solicitor, a chat with Sir William, and all will be well.” She patted his knee. “Thank you, though, for asking my opinion. That you trust me to that degree means a great deal.”

Merrick reached down and took both her hands in his. “If anything, you’re the one who trusts too easily. Caro, I want you to know that I’ve never, not once in my life, taken advantage of a female in my employ.”

“Of course you haven’t.” She smiled at him, memorizing every line of his face, so that one day, when she didn’t have him to look at anymore, she’d be able to remember each detail.

“But I’ve come close with you—twice. And I think I’m about to kiss you again.”

“Well, that’s not taking advantage now is it?” She leaned forward and dropped a soft peck on his lips. “Not if I kiss you first.” Every bit of her skin felt charged as if with electricity, and she was excruciatingly conscious of the bed only a few feet away.

“Caro, be very, very sure. This isn’t a thing that can be undone.” He squeezed her hands tightly and the cords of his neck grew taut with strain. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

That made her smile. “I’m told it always does the first time—but that it improves with practice.”

“True, but that’s not what I meant.” His lips twitched into a grin. “And I think you know that.”

She did. “I’m not asking for a lifetime, Merrick. I’m asking for tonight.” Caroline wouldn’t say no to forever, but she knew it was never going to happen—not for someone like her. This night, however, and perhaps a few more, would be hers.

She stood and untied the sash on her dressing gown before dropping the wrapper to the floor. One by one, she began to unfasten the small bone buttons at the neck of her nightgown.

Merrick’s chest expanded as she watched him suck in a deep breath and lean back in his chair. He watched her with hooded eyes. Without taking his gaze off her, he unbuttoned his shirt, pulled the tails free of the waistband of his trousers and shrugged out of the shirt and braces. Lord, he was magnificent—broad and dark, with fine whorls of hair on his chest and in a narrow line that bisected his abdomen before disappearing into his trousers.

Caroline’s nightgown now gaped nearly to her navel, and with one more deep breath, she shifted her shoulders again, pulling her arms free of the voluminous sleeves. With a little shimmy she let the fine cotton lawn drop to pool around her feet.

“Caro.” Merrick’s hands clenched hard on the arms of his chair. “Come here.”

There was almost no room between them as it was, so she stepped between his knees, moving up to lay her hands on his now-bare shoulders.

“Stand right there and take your hair down,” he murmured. Her breasts were level with his face, but he leaned back and tilted his head upward to look her in the eyes. “I’ve seen it up and braided, but never down. Something tells me no man ever has, not since you were a child. Am I right?”

Caroline licked her lips and nodded. She stood there, stark naked. He was looking at her nude breasts, for heaven’s sake, and he wanted to talk about no man ever seeing her hair? She’d never understand males, not if she lived to be a thousand. Still, she did as he asked, pulling out the few pins that held her hair in a haphazard knot, which had tilted precariously to one side since her bath, with a number of tresses already hanging loose.

He reached out and tangled one hand in a long strand of her hair. “Ah, it’s as glorious as I’d imagined. It’s a primitive thing, a man’s pleasure in being the first. On a rational level, it makes no sense at all.” His words seemed calm as he watched her, but his raspy, deep voice belied his seeming indifference. “One would think, after all, that a degree of experience might actually be useful. But innocence appeals to the baser instincts, somehow. I consider myself a very fortunate man at this moment, Caro. Luckier than I deserve.” With that, he placed his hands on her hips and pulled her forward. Leaning in himself, he placed gentle kisses on the swell of each breast.

“Oh.” Off balance, she swayed a little, until he steadied her by shifting his hands around, until one cupped each globe of her bottom. Her eyes flew open at the intimate touch—somehow almost more so than the other night when he’d caressed her to orgasm.

“If we do this,” he said, his lips trailing across her collarbones. “It won’t be sedate, or ladylike or tidy. Sex is a hot, sweaty, messy business, at least when done properly. Normally, I’d add loud, but since there are children next door and across the hall, we’ll have to keep things quiet. Are you prepared for that, Caro?”

“Yes.” She didn’t even have to think about it. She wanted anything and everything he had to offer. Rather than wait for him to take the next step, she sat down on one of his thighs so she could reach his mouth, and kissed him, letting all her desire, all her pent-up passion show in the hungry movement of her lips against his. When he opened his mouth, she continued to seize control, sliding her tongue into the hot, wet cavern and boldly exploring all the shapes and textures of him.

While Caroline was controlling the kiss, she had no illusions that she actually controlled anything else. Merrick’s hands were everywhere, slipping along her skin to cup, caress and massage sensitive points she hadn’t even been aware she possessed. The crook of her elbow, the dip of her waist, the nape of her neck all came alive at his touch.

One of her hands cupped his cheek, loving the rough stubble of his beard, while her other trailed across his broad shoulders and down to tangle in the curls on his chest. When she skimmed her fingertip across the rough surface of his flat nipple, he moaned into her mouth and took back control of the kiss, his tongue licking along hers, as his hand clamped around her breast, far less gently than before.

Her nipples were beaded into tight, achy knots and she rubbed against his callused palm, remembering the pleasure he’d given her with his hands and mouth.

As if sensing her need, he pulled his lips from hers and lowered them to her breast. First licking, then swirling his tongue around the taut bud, he laved her eagerly. Caroline tipped her head back, arching her spine to give him better access.

“We need more space.” He blew on her damp nipple, making her shiver. Then he stood, lifting her easily in his arms as if she weighed nothing, despite her more-than-generous curves. Adding to her shock, he held her with one arm while he pulled back the coverlet with the other before laying her down against the cool cotton sheets.

“You’re beautiful, Caro. I hope you know that.” His voice was thick with need. He stood beside the bed and reached for the buttons on his woolen trousers.

Caroline’s eyes were instantly drawn to the impressive bulge beneath his hand. While she knew, intellectually, what occurred during intercourse, she spared a second to wonder at the mechanics—and the feasibility—of it. Then he dropped his trousers and shoved his knit linen drawers down over his thighs and she couldn’t think about anything other than his sheer physical beauty.

He wasn’t perfect. Scars, some red, some white, crisscrossed his skin, and one fresh bandage showed where he must have sustained a minor wound just above the elbow that evening. He was bulkier, stronger than was considered elegant or fashionable, and his features were too craggy and rough to be classically handsome. Still, in her eyes, he was the ideal specimen of all things masculine. Her gaze traveled down to his groin, where his erection, thick, dark and heavily veined, jutted out from a nest of coarse black curls. She licked her lips again as all the moisture left her mouth—and pooled between her legs, no doubt. Her core felt swollen, almost painful, and she squeezed her thighs together in a vain attempt to ease the ache.

Merrick reached down and tugged off his socks and shoes, but he never turned his gaze from her body. Caroline could feel it along her skin, warm, like a touch. Goose bumps rose along her arms and legs. When Merrick put one knee on the bed, she scooted to the side, making room for him on the mattress.

“Still sure?” His tone, while husky with his obvious arousal, took on a teasing note, as if he knew she was determined to press ahead.

“Certain.” She reached out toward him as he came down beside her. “As long as—Merrick, we need to be careful. We can’t risk a child.”

“Of course.” He reached down beside the bed for his trousers, and pulled a small paper packet from the front pocket. “It’s a mark of how insane I am over you that I’ve taken to carrying one of these after last night in my study.” After opening the packet, he took out a small, white disc, which he rolled out into a sheath over his erect penis, tying it off with a small bow at the base of his shaft. A prophylactic—something else she’d only ever read about.

“Thank you.” It was all she could say before he kissed her again, long, deep and druggingly sweet. His arms came around her and dragged her close, until the crisp hairs on his chest abraded her sensitive nipples. Needing more, she rubbed against him as their lips tangled, pressing her belly into the firm length of his erection.

Merrick rolled her until she was on her back, with him poised above her. Without her conscious volition, her legs splayed, cradling his between them. The tip of his erection nudged at her entrance.

“Ah, Caro. I want to take forever with this, but I don’t know if I can.” He kissed her cheek, her ear, then the side of her throat. “I love your ears. Did you know that?” He nipped the pointed tip lightly, his lips sheathing his teeth, making her moan. “I could lick them, nibble on them for hours. But there’s so much more Caroline to experience.” He shifted lower, until his face was level with her breasts. “Yet another part of you that deserves hours of attention.” He licked, sucked and nibbled on her nipples until she was writhing against the sheet.

“Merrick—I can’t stand it.” She needed more—and after the experience in his study, now she knew what her body was striving for.

“Then come for me, Caro. I’m not going to take you until you do.” He kissed his way down her stomach, swirling his tongue around her navel for just a moment as he continued. Finally, his shoulders rested between her thighs and his breath was warm on her mons. Instinctively, she tilted up her hips and he rewarded her with a long lick, his tongue sliding along the seam of her sex.

Startled, she almost cried out, then bit down on her hand to keep from making noise. There were two bathrooms separating her bedroom from Tommy’s, but it was still too close to risk shrieking in pleasure. When Merrick licked her again, this time circling her clitoris with his tongue, she muffled another moan.

“Come for me, Caro. I know you can do it.” His mouth and fingers worked magick on her—his tongue lashing against that bundle of nerves while he slowly inserted a finger into her sheath. She bucked her hips, driving that digit deeper, and he chuckled, replacing the one finger with two. In and out, he stroked, spreading his fingers to stretch her, which she knew would ease his penetration later. Right now, though, it felt like heaven, and she moved her hips to the rhythm of his hand, climbing closer to that peak she’d experienced before.

It didn’t take long before the pressure built to the breaking point and she bit down on the base of her thumb as she arched, her body clenching down on his hand as her mind shattered. He pushed his fingers in and held them deep while she fractured, then eased them out and petted her gently as the spasms of pleasure subsided.

“Beautiful,” he muttered. He gave her quim one last kiss before he crawled up over her and settled his heavy cock at her entrance with one hand, while he braced himself above her on his other elbow. One damp finger trailed across her cheek. “Ready?”

“Yes.” It was more whimper than word, but she knew he understood. His gaze bored into hers as his shaft breached her channel. There was a stab of pain—it hurt quite a lot—but then it was gone, and he was there, inside her, filling her in a way that seemed to complete her very soul.

He kissed her cheeks, smoothed a couple hairs off her cheeks. “All right?”

She smiled. “Perfectly.” Tangling her hand in his hair, she pulled him down for a kiss. Tasting herself on his lips was odd, but pleasant, as was the slight shifting of his hips, flexing him inside her. Experimentally, she pulsed her hips back, loving the sensation as he moved.

“Ah, dearest.” Then he began to move in earnest, and Caroline stopped thinking at all. She clung to his shoulders and matched his rhythm, quickly spiraling toward a second, stronger climax.

When it struck, she called his name, but his kiss swallowed the words, even as he thrust deeply and groaned back into her mouth, his body shuddering above her.

After one last, sweet kiss, he pulled himself from her and collapsed onto the mattress by her side, one hand still tangled in her hair, one leg thrown across hers.

“Beautiful,” she whispered, shaken and exhausted. “Thank you.”

He smiled over at her and used his thumb to wipe away the single tear that trickled down her cheek. “Amazing.”

“Is it always like that?” She had to drag in a breath between each word and the room still spun if she tried to move.

“Never. Never in my life.”

Long moments later, he rose and vanished into the lavatory, returning without the French letter and with a damp washcloth in his hands, which he used to carefully clean the blood from between her legs.

“I should change the sheets,” she whispered. “So the maids don’t know…”

“Later.” He tossed the washcloth back into the bathroom and returned to her bed. “I’m not finished with you yet, Caro.”

“We can do it again?” Even she rolled her eyes at the eagerness in her own voice. Then she chuckled. “I’m not even sure I can stand.”

“Right now I want to hold you,” he said. “In a little while, we can do more. But I only had the one sheath, so we’ll have to be inventive.”

“That sounds like…” a giant yawn split her lips, “…fun.”

“Ah, dearest, you have no idea.”

Chapter Twelve

Dawn was creeping through the gap in the curtains when Merrick finally climbed from Caro’s bed. She didn’t rouse and he stood over her, debating on whether to wake her. They hadn’t exactly gotten around to changing the sheets. In fact when they’d woken and made love again, he hadn’t had a French letter, so he’d withdrawn, adding to the evidence. One thing he didn’t want was for the household staff to lose respect for Caro.

He reached down and twirled one golden lock of hair around his finger. Well, he had an idea of how to make sure of that. Somewhere in the depths of the night, he’d made a decision. He was going to marry Caro. Now he just had to convince her of that.

After returning to his room to bathe and shave, he dressed in clean clothing and made his way down to the staff hall, or rather to the housekeeper’s private parlor, nearby.

“Mrs. Granger, if I might have a minute? You too, Mountjoy.” The two looked up from their breakfast, startled. Did they think he was unaware that they met every morning to plan the day’s labors? Really, after all these years, they should realize he knew everything that happened in his household—much like both of them probably did. “Oh, eat your breakfast—there’s no reason to go hungry.” In fact, he’d helped himself to some coffee and toast from the kitchen on the way here.

“Yes, Sir Merrick?” Mountjoy raised his eyebrows as Merrick pulled up a spindly chair and joined them at the small table.

“I’m well aware that you two know everything, hear everything that goes on in this household, so I thought I’d tell you flat out. Miss Bristol is very likely to be your new mistress.” With that out of the way, he took a deep drink of the hot coffee. “Although—she’s not aware of it yet, so don’t say anything to her.” The toast wasn’t half bad, and Merrick discovered he’d worked up quite an appetite last night.

Was that a smile flitting across Mountjoy’s usually impassive face? Merrick suspected it was. “Indeed, sir, we wouldn’t dream of it.”

Mrs. Granger rolled her eyes and clutched her rosary. “Saints be praised. I thought you’d never marry.”

“So, should you happen to hear any gossip among the maids, or,” he cleared his throat, “the laundress, say, you’ll make sure they know to keep their thoughts to themselves, right?”

Now the housekeeper shook one plump finger at Merrick. “You shouldn’t have.”

He shrugged. “You’re probably right. But, well, the lady is going to take some serious convincing to say yes.”

“The staff know their place, sir.” Mountjoy gave a concise nod. “There will be no gossip. You have our word.”

“Thank you both.” He finished his coffee and stood. “You won’t mind—working for someone who’s been in service herself?”

“No, sir.” Mrs. Granger shook her head. “Always knew that one was something different—a fine lady, hard on her luck.”

“Good. Then I shall get back to my work, so I can free up enough time to court her properly. Good day, Mrs. Granger, Mountjoy.”

With a spring in his step, he called for Debbins. Today he was off to Oxfordshire.

After disembarking from the dirigible, Merrick visited the universities. At one, he met first with the Dean of Science and Engineering, showing his credentials from the Crown and asking if he could see the original Babbage engine, now housed in a glass display case in the college’s great hall. It was one of the first models, hand-built by Lord Babbage himself, and now a priceless artifact, even though it was barely more than a decade old.

“You’re the second person this week who’s asked to see the thing,” Dean Archibald muttered. Bald, with a long white beard, he strongly resembled the popular image of Father Time. He walked ahead of Merrick and seemed to talk as much to himself as to anyone else. “Other one had those same papers.”

Another Knight had been here this very week? Merrick almost stopped in his tracks, but the tiny, older man would have left him in the dust if he had. “Can you describe this other man, Dean?”

Archibald shrugged. “Dunno. Wasn’t here. Must’ve been…Reed, maybe? He’s the one complaining about the theft, anyway. Chemists. Idiots, the lot of them.”

“Theft?”

“Something about the connecting device for his damn mixing crucible.” Archibald shook his shining head. “Lost the bloody part, that’s what happened.”

“Do you think I could talk to Professor Reed?” Merrick followed around a corner to the great hall, and there was the engine, pristine and perfect in its secure, glass case.

“Don’t know why you’d want to. Man’s senile and stupid to boot. Chemists.” He said the last word as if it were a curse.

“Maybe if I do, it’ll quiet him down—let him think the authorities are looking into it.” Merrick smiled. “By the way, Dean. Which science is your specialty?”

“Astronomy, of course. Discovered my own comet—even got it named after me. Only serious science in this place.”

“No doubt. Now about Professor Reed…”

“Sure, sure.” Archibald hailed a passing student. “You there. Take this officer to see old Bats-in-the-Belfry Reed, would you?” With that, the older man flitted away.

The harried-looking student led Merrick into a book-filled office, where a silver-haired man sat at a desk so cluttered, Merrick was amazed he didn’t lose himself in the mess. He coughed to get the man’s attention, then introduced himself, showing off his credentials yet again.

“Ah, Sir Merrick. So nice of you to come by. When I reported that minor theft, I never expected one of Her Majesty’s own.”

“Minor theft?” Merrick saw what looked to be a chair beneath a stack of papers, and carefully relocated the documents to another pile, then eased down into the rickety chair. “What was that, Professor. Could you explain it to me, please?”

“Surely you have the report?” The older man shuffled some papers back and forth on his desk. Merrick could barely see his gray head over the stacks.

“Yes, yes, of course, but I’d like to hear it in your own words.” He had no idea what the man was talking about, but it might not be coincidence.

“It was last week—I’d just set up the machine to run some new formulae, and it wouldn’t work. The attachment that connects the analytical engine to the measuring apparatus was missing, so none of the chemicals could be added to the crucible.” Reed scratched his head. “Don’t know what anyone could want with it—you’d need the entire device to be of any use. Won’t work with anything else. Only thing I can think is it was some sort of student scavenger hunt thing. Probably those devils over in astronomy. Always up to something, they are. Old Arsewipe Archibald puts them up to it.”

Merrick coughed again to cover a laugh. “Can you describe the item to me? The missing part, especially?” This had to tie into Merrick’s investigation, unless it really had been a student prank.

“Hmmm. Specifications for it are around here somewhere.” Reed began. “Made by Babbage Scientific Instruments, of course.”

“Of course.” That much, Merrick knew. Only the one company made that particular piece of equipment. “If I may ask, would that adapter have also worked with one of the old punch card style engines?”

“Certainly, boy. Damn thing’s practically an antique—six, seven years old at the very least. I keep asking for a new one, but no, it’s not in the budget, they tell me.” He rifled through a drawer and bellowed, “Aha!” then held up a yellowed sheaf of paper. “Owner’s manual. Right here.”

Merrick took the pamphlet and studied the image. Sure enough, this attachment would connect the two parts of the device, the engine and the mixer. “Professor Reed, may I hold onto this for purposes of my investigation? I promise to return it when we retrieve your missing equipment.”

The professor waved his hand. “Of course, of course. Look in the astronomy offices first, why don’t you?”

“I promise it will be a thorough investigation.” Merrick grinned. “Oh, and by the way, did you show the antique Babbage engine to one of my colleagues earlier this week?”

Reed shook his head. “Nope. Don’t think so. Ask Arsewipe.”

Merrick just shook his head and said goodbye.

Things were much the same at the other prestigious institution of learning, though it was a different part of the machine that had gone missing. Once again, though, he’d enjoyed the banter between the dons, despite the gravity of the situation.

His next errand, however, would be far less entertaining. He’d sent a telegram to Sir Andrew Devere, requesting a meeting, and Sir Andrew had agreed, setting the time for this afternoon, which left Merrick just enough time to reach the retired Knight’s estate in a small village nearby. As his hired coach hurried through the lanes, Merrick studied the photographs he’d brought of Tommy. Would this visit answer some of the questions of the boy’s existence or merely raise more? And what would it do to an ill, old man?

The imposing Tudor manor house was dark and virtually silent when Merrick was shown in. The only notable sound was the quiet tick of a grandfather clock in one corner of the foyer. All the drapes were closed and even the butler who admitted him spoke in a dignified whisper. With stern instructions not to excite or tire the master, the servant reluctantly led Merrick up the stairs to the master suite. Double doors opened into a private sitting room-cum-study, where a wizened man waited in a clockwork-powered wheelchair. This room was dark, like the rest of the house, with a single gas lamp burning, and a little more light provided by a crackling fire in the hearth. Merrick stepped inside, already feeling a trickle of sweat down the back of his neck.

“Sir Merrick. Please, have a seat.” The older man gestured at a wing chair on the opposite side of the hearth from his own position. “You’re welcome to remove your coat—I know this room is a bit stuffy for most folk.”

“Thank you, Sir Andrew.” Merrick took off his coat and hung it over the back of his chair before taking his seat. He hadn’t seen the former Knight in ages—probable close to a decade, really. The years had not been kind. Though Sir Andrew couldn’t be much more than sixty—his son had been just a few years older than Merrick—the man was more wrinkled and desiccated than an Egyptian mummy.

It was hard to see the disintegration of a man Merrick respected so deeply. Sir Andrew had fought at the battle where Merrick’s father had died, and though he’d survived, his injuries had never fully healed. His only child had already been killed at that point, in a senseless carriage accident while on a drunken revel with his cronies, before he’d even taken his final vows as a Knight.

Merrick accepted coffee from the servant who materialized—or so it seemed—with a cart. Then the maid was dismissed, and Sir Andrew studied Merrick carefully. “So what brings you to see me today, young man? Not that I’m not happy for the visit, mind.”

“I’m only sorry it’s been so long.” Merrick sipped his coffee. “Sir Andrew, I need to ask you something about Malcolm. I’m sorry to bring up such a painful subject, but it is important.”

“By all means.” Devere’s pale, watery eyes misted even further. “No one ever wants to talk about him, and I wish they would. I miss him, you know. He was a hotheaded idiot, but that was partly my fault. His mother wanted more children, but we only ever had the one. So I let her spoil him something terrible. After she died, I think he went a little mad—drinking, gambling, carrying on… If I’d just insisted he take his final training right after university, like you did, then perhaps… But we’ll never know, will we?” He drew in a ragged breath and blinked rapidly before looking back up at Merrick. “What can I do for you, lad?”

“Is it possible, do you think…” Merrick chose every word with exquisite care, “…that Malcolm might have…sired a child before he died?”

One wispy white eyebrow lifted, and his expression sharpened, showing a hint of the powerful magickal warrior he’d once been. “Of course it’s possible. The boy was certainly not a saint. Could have had a dozen, for all I know. Why?”

That wasn’t likely—as a whole, the Knights tended not to produce large families, perhaps as some sort of cosmic trade-off for their power. Merrick pulled the photographs, in their leather folding frame, from the small satchel by his feet. “I met this lad not long ago in a rather seedy part of London. He’s almost sixteen, and he’s got more innate power than some active members of the Order. His name is Thomas Porter, and he never knew his father. There’s something about his eyes, the set of his chin, which made me think of Malcolm.”

“Porter, did you say?” A shaking hand reached for the photographs, even as his other slammed down on a bell on the side of his chair. “Wilkins, get in here, at once.” His hoarse shout was the loudest thing Merrick had heard since entering this tomb of a house.

Merrick handed over the portraits, one close-up shot of just the face, and one from further back, showing Tommy’s long, lean frame. Devere snatched them and studied each eagerly. “Yes, yes, that chin, you’re right. What color are his eyes?”

“Bright blue.” Just like Sir Andrew’s had been, once upon a time. “His hair is a sandy blond—a little lighter than Mal’s was, but Tommy says his mother was fair. He has a few freckles, and he’s damn near as tall as I am. He was making his living as a card sharp in Wapping—at the age of fifteen, and leading a cadre of local street children in fighting vampyres. That’s how I met him. They came to my aid during an assignment that turned messy.”

“And where is he now?” The older man’s breathing was erratic and fast.

“I took him on as my ward,” Merrick answered. “Edwin Berry is training him.”

“Thank God. Porter, you said, right?”

“Yes, his mother was apparently one Lucy Porter, barmaid at a tavern not far from the docks. What does that name mean to you, Sir Andrew?”

A burly manservant burst through the door. “Sir! Your medicine.” He pulled a vial of pills from his pocket and popped one into his employer’s mouth before turning to Merrick. “Sir, I must ask you to leave—”

“No!” Sir Andrew swallowed the pill and seemed to make a conscious effort to steady himself. “Sykes, I need you to fetch the big envelope labeled ‘Malcolm’ from the bottom drawer of the desk in my study downstairs. Immediately.” He refused to relinquish the photograph, clutching it against his thin chest. “You. Tell me more.”

Obediently, Merrick gave an expurgated version of the events leading up to him having a houseful of children and a part-sidhe governess. “He’s a good lad,” he said at the end. “Strong, protective of the others, wicked smart. He won’t make the same mistakes Malcolm did—I can promise that.”

Sir Andrew nodded. “Good, good. Are you planning to keep him?”

Merrick winced. “All of them, actually. Aunt Dorothy’s grown quite attached to the little hellions. They’re all gifted in one way or another—or most of them, at least. Furthermore, they’re fiercely devoted to one another—utterly refuse to be separated.”

The older man blinked rapidly and swallowed hard. “Well, if the boy is my grandson—and I think he may well be—I’m in no position to care for him. Would you foster him for me, Merrick? As a favor to an old man?”

Merrick was forced to choke back a lump in his throat. “Of course, Sir Andrew. It would be my honor.”

“He’ll have my fortune, so you won’t have to pay his way. The house goes with the title, of course, but I don’t think that will be a problem. Still have a few favors to call in at Whitehall and Buckingham.”

Merrick wasn’t sure that even royal favors would be enough to elevate a bastard to the baronetcy, though stranger things had happened. Acknowledgement would, however, cement Tommy’s future place in the Order, and the money would certainly help secure the boy’s future, though Merrick had more than enough to support a dozen children in reasonable comfort.

The manservant returned with a large brown envelope, which he reluctantly handed to Sir Andrew. “Are you feeling better, sir? Shall I summon your physician?”

“I’m as well as I’ve been in years, or am likely to be again, Sykes. Now bring me that table.”

The man lifted a small round table and set it between Merrick and Devere. Devere laid the envelope on the table and tried to open it, but his hands shook too heavily to work the clasp. He pushed it across to Merrick. “Open it. Please.”

Merrick complied and drew out a thick sheaf of documents. On top was a birth certificate for one Malcolm Allen Devere. Below was a baptismal certificate, then a painted miniature of a young boy, who did bear a strong resemblance to Tommy.

“Toward the very end.”

Merrick turned the stack over, and began flipping through from the bottom. Malcolm’s will, then a death certificate. The next piece of parchment was a marriage license. “Malcolm Devere and Lucinda Porter,” he read. It was dated less than a week before Malcolm’s death. “Good God, man, he married her? Tommy could be your legitimate heir?”

“Well, now, it may be so. I had Bow Street do an investigation after his death. Never found the wench. And that parson’s signature doesn’t match any known ordained ministers in London at the time. But it may be enough to get the Queen to acknowledge a marriage—don’t suppose the lad has a certificate of birth or baptism?”

“I doubt it. All his belongings fit into one bag no bigger than this when he came to me.” Merrick nudged his small satchel with one boot. “And I can’t understand why his mother wouldn’t have told him about the marriage, if it’s the same Lucy Porter.”

“Hmm. Good questions. Still, we’ll get Trowbridge on this, and my solicitors. Might as well use up all those favors, anyway. I won’t be around much longer.”

Merrick didn’t even try to make a polite denial—they’d have both known it for a lie. Sir Andrew’s days were certainly numbered.

“I’ll write a letter now, and you can take it to Trowbridge when you return to London. He can move things from there. And Merrick—bring the boy to see me? I know it won’t be fun for the lad, but it would do my heart a world of good, to see him once before I go.”

“I think he’s made of strong enough stuff, sir. I’ll bring him.”

A short while later, Merrick shook Sir Andrew’s hand and took his hired carriage back to the dirigible field. He carried two letters in his satchel, one for the Duke of Trowbridge, and one for the Queen. He couldn’t help wondering what Caroline would make of this new information.

As part of their bribe for not sneaking along on last night’s adventure, Caroline had agreed that today was to be a school holiday, highlighted by a trip to the British museum to see the second analytical engine ever built by Lord Babbage himself—the first was still at his home, in his private collection. And the mummies. While Wink couldn’t wait to see the engine, the boys couldn’t care less and only wanted to view the dead bodies. Nell was mostly looking forward to the promised stop for ice cream.

“Hurry, Miss Caro,” Wink urged, barely restraining herself from running ahead of the others once they’d alighted from the carriage and the doors of the museum came into sight. “You’re slow today.”

“Am I?” Of course she was. She knew her stride wasn’t her usual brisk pace. Who’d have thought she’d be sore this morning? Despite the rapidity with which she usually healed, she was distinctly tender in certain portions of her anatomy, and walking was a bit of a chore. Thank heavens today wasn’t to have been riding lessons. That, she was sure she couldn’t have faced. It was bad enough that one of the maids changed Caro’s sheets while she was in the bath this morning. Shortly afterward, Mrs. Granger herself had come in with a tea tray, complete with buttered scones and a fresh daisy in a little vase.

“Anything you need, miss? I put a bit of willow bark in the tea. Should help take away any aches and pains. Being a woman is full of those now, isn’t it?” She’d hurried out again before Caroline could speak.

Well, at least the woman seemed to believe Caroline was having her courses. What she’d think when it happened again in just two weeks, Caroline would worry about then, though of course the same was true now—she’d gone through her cycle a fortnight ago. Well, hopefully, no one responsible for laundry could be bothered to count. For now Caroline focused on walking without wincing. The willow bark had helped, as had the hot bath, but after a bumpy carriage ride, most of the aches had returned.

Sally, Johnson and Constable McCullough, in plainclothes suited to a wealthy young buck, accompanied them into the museum. Liam McCullough, a handsome man in his early twenties, admitted to Caroline that although his father was a peer, he preferred to make his own way, hence his position as a mere constable. They both smiled, having found something in common. Apparently, unable to trust anyone in his own organization, Merrick had turned to his friend, an inspector at Scotland Yard, who had sent over his handsome young assistant to act as a bodyguard for Caroline and the children. No chances were being taken with safety—all of the adults carried weapons. Even Sally and Caroline had pocket pistols tucked into their skirts.

They’d agreed to start with the mummies. The boys were thrilled. Wink was busy gazing at Constable McCullough with all the rapt adoration a fifteen-year-old girl could muster, while he pretended not to notice. Nell stood in the doorway, her arms crossed over her chest.

“What’s the matter, dear?” Caroline stood beside her and laid her hand on the girl’s shoulder.

Nell shook her head. “So many ghosts. They’re unhappy, Miss Caro. They want to go home.”

Lord, she hadn’t even thought that taking the girl to an exhibit of ancient artifacts would be distressing. She’d grown used to Nell chatting with invisible strangers in the park from time to time, but here, yes, even Caroline could feel the weight in the atmosphere of the room.

“Perhaps you and I should go look at something less disturbing,” Caroline offered. “I think there are some butterflies and birds from the tropics on display in another room.”

“Alive?” Nell looked up hopefully.

Caroline shook her head. “No dear. Preserved.”

Nell’s dark gaze dropped back to the floor. “No thank you.”

“Well, why don’t we just wait out here in the hallway?”

The look of relief on the young face was palpable. “Thank you, miss.”

They found a bench in the corridor, but near enough that Constable McCullough, standing by the door, could see both them and the boys. It was so foreign, to have to be guarded. Caroline could only hope Merrick and his colleagues found the guilty parties as soon as possible. When Nell laid her head on Caroline’s shoulder, Caroline’s arm automatically wrapped around the girl’s waist, holding her close. She dropped a comforting kiss on Nell’s black hair.

“Is your daughter ill, madam? Is there anything you need?” A young curatorial assistant hurried down the corridor with a clipboard, but paused to notice Caroline and Nell on the bench.

Caroline smiled at the friendly young man, his red hair sticking up in six different directions as if he ran his fingers through it often. “No, she’s just not comfortable with the mummies.” Or their ghosts.

The assistant smiled, bid them good afternoon and went on his way. Caroline stared at his retreating, white-coated back. Daughter? Did she really not look like a governess? In her new finery, Caroline supposed she didn’t—she was as well dressed as the children. When had she stopped wearing her false spectacles?

Oh, this was bad. She was the worst governess in the world. Not only had she fallen in love with her employer, but she’d fallen in love with her charges too. When her affair with Merrick ended and she was forced to leave, it was going to break her heart.

A little later, they stood in the gallery devoted to modern invention and technology, and Nell relaxed. Most of the objects in here were too new to have ghosts attached to them. Caroline remembered Merrick’s concern about the Babbage engines, so when Wink said, “There’s something wrong with this,” Caroline hurried over to look.

“I’m sure they have it displayed in working order.” Caroline was somewhat amazed that Wink had ceased gazing at Constable McCullough long enough to notice the machine at all. Still, if Wink said something was wrong, it probably was. Caroline peered into the exhibit. “At least that’s what the sign says.” There was a large explanatory card affixed to the glass case.

Wink shook her head. “I don’t care what it says. This machine won’t work. Several of the important gears are missing.” She pointed to the places where, apparently, in her eyes there ought to be gears or cylinders, or some other part Caroline couldn’t quite fathom.

“We should tell Sir Merrick,” Caroline murmured. “As soon as we get home.” Did this mean anything for his investigation? All she knew is she suddenly felt chilled, as if she’d walked right through one of Nell’s ghosts.

Merrick gritted his teeth all through dinner. Dorothy had invited Gideon MacKay, had seated him next to Caro and seemed to be actively pushing the two younger people together. Caro flirted with MacKay, nothing significant, but enough to make Merrick want to beat the other man to a pulp, or beat his own chest and shriek, “Mine!”

Wink and Tommy rolled their eyes at Gideon’s open fawning, ignoring him as much as possible while remaining polite. That they didn’t care for the man was curious, but more and more Merrick found himself agreeing with their taste. Surely Caro could see through MacKay’s blatant flattery?

After dinner, Merrick said good-night to Gideon and asked Caro to meet him in his study whenever it was convenient. He’d wrestled all afternoon with the question of how to tell Tommy about his possible grandfather, and he wanted to hear her opinion on the subject.

To his relief, she didn’t linger with MacKay, but joined him right away. Before he could begin though, she informed him of Wink’s observations regarding the Babbage engine at the museum.

He nodded. “I believe her. There are parts missing from both Oxford and Cambridge too. It’s probable that rather than stealing a complete engine, our opponent is trying to assemble his own.”

He’d asked to speak to her here, hoping he would be less inclined to kiss her if the width of his desk stood between them. It wasn’t working. While practical concerns still occupied his brain, his body wanted to do nothing more than drag her across the desk. “Caro, there’s something else I need to tell you, and it’s important, though unrelated to this investigation.”

He took great care to leave nothing out in his explanation. He told her more about the Order than was strictly allowed, including the issues of heredity that led him to believe Tommy’s father had been a Knight, and his reasoning for suspecting Malcolm Devere.

Caro absorbed the information with her usual thoughtful gravity and smiled when Merrick finished by telling her about the marriage certificate. “That’s wonderful. Have you told him yet? What did he say?”

Merrick grimaced. “I haven’t. There’s still the possibility that he isn’t a Devere. And I still can’t understand why his mother wouldn’t have told him about the wedding, given him his father’s name.”

“Maybe Tommy can answer that.” Caro nibbled on her lower lip as she pondered. “But what if you can’t prove it either way? What will it take to satisfy Sir Andrew?”

That question, Merrick could answer. “There are spells that can be used. I’ve already requested that a sorcerer accompany us when I take Tommy to meet Sir Andrew. It won’t be a long reunion, I’m afraid. Sir Andrew is a dying man.”

“That’s a shame. So doesn’t that mean you should talk to Tommy as soon as possible?” Caro clenched and unclenched her fingers on her lap, as if she, too, was having trouble keeping her hands to herself.

“I’d like you to come with us.” He hadn’t intended to ask, but once the words were out, he knew he meant them, deeply.

“Shouldn’t it be Mr. Berry? I haven’t spent that much time with Tommy.” She twisted her hands again. Clearly, she wanted to come.

“I can’t ask the other children along. They’d be too disruptive in a sickroom. But Tommy connects you with them, with the family he’s made for himself. I think he’d appreciate your support.” Merrick knew he certainly would.

“That would be fine. Let me know when I’m needed.” She stood to leave.

“Caro, wait.” He didn’t want to let her go, especially if she was returning to visit with Gideon. No, that wasn’t entirely true. He didn’t want her to leave—not ever, really. When he’d told the servants this morning he intended to marry her, he’d meant every word. He hadn’t planned to wed, but Caroline Bristol, or Buckman, or whatever the hell name she used, was made of sturdier stuff than Merrick’s mother. She’d survive as the wife of a Knight—he was sure of it. And she’d hold this odd little family together if something happened to him. He didn’t know anything about love, but he wanted her in his life, in his home. In his bed.

Her lips curved into a soft, shaky smile. “I’m going upstairs to put the children to bed. If you want to…talk to me later, you’ll know where I am.”

He grinned back. “Until later then.” He watched the sway of her backside as she walked out the door and shifted to ease the discomfort in his trousers. Good thing he’d stopped at the chemist’s on the way home today.

Chapter Thirteen

Caroline couldn’t believe Merrick had talked her into riding in an airship on the trip to Oxfordshire. Sure, she was swathed in a heavy traveling cloak with her hands tucked firmly into a muff, and Merrick and Tommy kept her between them to prevent her from accidentally brushing against anything mechanical, but still, she was terrified she’d damage something important by proximity and cause them all to plummet in a fiery crash.

At least worrying about her seemed to distract Tommy from his own anxieties. The boy was putting up a good front of nonchalance, but Caroline could tell he was nervous about meeting his possible grandfather.

“Would you prefer to ride in the cabin or out on the observation deck?” Merrick asked, his voice pitched loudly over the engines and fans of the dirigible.

Where would she do the least damage? At least the engines hadn’t stopped whirring the moment she’d stepped onto the deck. That was a good sign. Merrick had cast some sort of spell in the carriage on the way to the airfield—one he’d thought would negate some of her anti-mechanical energy.

“Outside, please?”

Caroline couldn’t resist Tommy’s plea—it was so rare to see him acting like a normal boy of fifteen. She allowed herself to be guided out to the forward, first-class observation deck, glad for the lead-weighted outer hoop that would hold her skirts in place in the wind. Despite her trepidation, she did want to see what the world looked like from so high above.

“The rail?” Merrick, looking dashing in his long duster coat and tweed driving cap, gestured forward. Caroline nodded. She pulled the small brass goggles down from the crown of her hat, which was tied securely beneath her chin with a long silk scarf. Tommy and Merrick donned larger, leather-rimmed ones, which also served to secure their hats in place and they found a spot right near the prow of the gondola. Caroline clung to Merrick’s arm to keep from accidentally leaning on the ship.

“Wink would love this,” she yelled as the engines whirred more loudly and the airship began to rise. “Jamie, too, though I’d want him tied to the rail, for safety.”

“Next time,” Merrick promised. He squeezed her waist with the arm he had wrapped around it. “Perhaps next weekend we’ll run down to Brighton, so they can see the ocean.” He glanced over at Tommy, who stared fixedly ahead, then dropped a quick kiss on Caroline’s nose. “All right so far?”

She felt herself blush, even as she nodded. In the last few days, he’d begun to treat her less like an employee and more like a member of the family than she was comfortable with. Even the man at the ticket gate had assumed they were husband and wife, and Merrick had said nothing to correct him, just given Caroline’s elbow a fond pat. Tommy, with Merrick’s height and a slightly darker version of Caroline’s coloring, could easily be their son—if she’d had him at age twelve, of course. Still, it was so easy to imagine them all as a family, her family, that minor details like age could be overlooked.

Merrick had come to her bed every night since that first time. While he’d taught her some wondrous things about the art of making love, they’d also spent a great deal of time talking. It was becoming very difficult to separate Merrick, her lover, from Sir Merrick, her employer.

Caroline held her breath as the vast dirigible rose into the sky. In just minutes, they were above the soot and smoke that filled the London air. Shortly after, they left Town behind and could look down at vast tracts of green, dotted here and there by farms and villages, bisected by tarmac roads, gravel lanes, blue rivers and muddy canals. The view was nearly spectacular enough to draw her attention away from the man who held her so carefully close.

“Look at that, Miss Caro.” Tommy bounded over and stood beside them, practically quivering. “Who’d have ever imagined there was so much green in the whole world?”

Even in the vast space of Hyde Park, the green was so overlain with soot that it wasn’t the same. “Have you ever been out of the city before, Tommy?”

The boy shook his head. “Not that I remember, at any rate. This is like something out of one of Nell’s faery stories.”

Caroline laughed. “I agree.” Though she meant everything about her life of late, not just the lush green fields beneath them.

It didn’t take long until the airship descended at a field outside of Oxford. Merrick had arranged for a friend to meet them there, another Knight, whose specialty was apparently divination magick. Rhys, Marquess Drood, a ruddy-faced, cheerful man in his mid-forties, with a thick Welsh accent, greeted them warmly. He was pleasant to Caroline, but paid particular attention to Tommy as the hired carriage rolled over the macadam toward the home of Sir Andrew.

“Tom, before we go in, can you tell me everything your mother ever told you about your father? A name? Even his coloring or height?” Lord Drood’s questioning was couched in such a friendly tone, it didn’t strike Caroline as invasive, but Tommy squared his jaw and his shoulders.

“He was a toff,” Tommy said. He caught Caroline’s raised eyebrow and corrected his speech. “I know that. She told me once or twice that I’ve the look of him. I know he was tall, like me. Mum was a tiny little thing, like you, Miss Caro.”

Lord Drood smiled. “Good, good. Now anything else? Did she ever mention a wedding?”

Tommy bit his lip, then nodded slowly. “Maybe. I remember her arguing once, with one of her men. There was always a man, living in the flat, but this one…it was worse than most. She claimed she’d married, but her husband had deserted her. The bas—umm—blighter just laughed and told her everyone knew the ceremony and her paper were just a sham. A common trick to get a girl on her back.”

“It can be,” Merrick admitted. “But in this case, maybe not. Do you have her papers, Tom?”

Tommy shook his head. “No. They had another fight, not long after that. I wanted to hide, but she was screaming something awful, so I ran out and hit the old bugger with the teapot. He just laughed, kicked me in the ribs and ran down the stairs. Must’ve knocked over a lamp on his way out. Mum was on the floor, dead. Then I smelled smoke. I dragged her out, but of course there was no point. And I couldn’t save any of her things.”

“How old were you?” Lord Drood asked.

“Eight.”

“Did you ever find the man?” Merrick’s voice held curiosity, but no trace of recrimination.

Tommy looked askance at Lord Drood, but nodded. “Aye. He won’t hurt anyone else ever again.”

“Good lad.” The words came from both adult male mouths at once. Caroline just reached across and squeezed Tommy’s hand where it lay on his knee. To her surprise, he squeezed back—an unusual gesture of affection from him.

“Do you know your birthday, lad?”

“August, 1835. Can’t remember the day.”

Lord Drood nodded. “Malcolm Devere died in December of ’34.”

“Less than a week after the date on the marriage license,” Merrick added. “Which may or may not be the sham that Lucy Porter obviously believed it to be.”

“I can try to test it for honesty,” Lord Drood said. “But after all this time, a genuine response isn’t likely.”

Merrick nodded. “Sir Andrew did have an investigator search for his son’s missing wife, and the minister. He never found either.”

“I know my mum’s parents threw her out when she turned up pregnant,” Tommy said. “So if someone went looking for her, they might never find her. Whitechapel and Wapping aren’t far apart as the crow flies, but enough, in London.”

“True.” Merrick gave Tommy a bracing grin. “Well, we’ll find out more soon. Buck up, lad. We’re here.”

In the hushed confines of the huge manor house, a servant escorted them to an upstairs sitting room, where they were met by a man in a clockwork wheelchair. The odor of illness filled the room, and Caroline knew at once that Merrick hadn’t exaggerated the man’s condition.

“Nice to see you again, Sir Andrew.” Merrick shook the older man’s trembling hand. “You know Lord Drood, of course. And this is Miss Bristol, a dear family friend who’s acting as temporary governess.”

Temporary? What did he mean by that? Caroline took her gloves off to shake the old man’s hand. She sent whatever soothing energy she had across the link. While she still wasn’t sure she had any actual power, if she did, she wanted to ease his pain, if only for a little while. Lord Drood raised one steel-gray eyebrow, but didn’t say a thing. Caroline stepped aside as Merrick brought Tommy forward.

“And this,” Merrick said, his arm around Tommy’s shoulder, “is Master Thomas Porter, Knight-in-training. Tom, this is Sir Andrew Devere, retired Knight of the Order.”

Tommy managed a very credible bow. “Pleased to meet you, sir.”

“And I, you,” said Sir Andrew, holding out his hand. “Welcome to Stonechase, my boy.”

Tommy carefully shook the fragile hand. “But the house isn’t stone, sir. So why is it called Stonechase?”

“Ah, a long story that. Perhaps someday I’ll have time to tell you. If not, there’s a book about the house and its history on the shelf over there. For now, though, do you understand why Sir Merrick brought you here?”

Tommy nodded. “To see if you are my grandfather.”

The old man smiled. “I am. I can see my Malcolm in your eyes, plain as day.”

Caroline’s eyes watered at the sight of a single tear dropping down Sir Andrew’s cheek.

“He tricked my mother with a false wedding.” Tommy said, a tremor in his voice she’d never heard before.

“He may have,” Sir Andrew agreed. “Or it may have been real. And we may never know for certain.”

“Tom, will you have a seat, and lay your hand on top of Sir Andrew’s, there on the table?” Lord Drood spoke softly. “Sir Andrew, if you could put yours on top of the marriage license? I’d like to try a spell if you two don’t mind.”

Sir Andrew smiled. “Not at all, Rhys.” He laid his bony hand on the piece of parchment atop a fine lace tablecloth.

“Yes, sir.” Tommy sat in a small chair pulled up to the same table and placed his hand on top of Sir Andrew’s. Then Drood stood between the two and laid his own palm over both. He closed his eyes and chanted something in a language Caroline didn’t recognize. Welsh? Something even older? A soft glow seemed to surround the three linked hands.

Lord Drood—from druid?—smiled when the glow receded and his chanting stopped. “I can say with absolute certainty that young Thomas here is indeed the son of Malcolm Devere—and that he’s bloody damn powerful for an untrained Knight. As to the license, I have a few general impressions. One, the young lady believed at the time that the ceremony was genuine. Two, Malcolm thought it was a hoax, but was well into his cups at the time. Three, the minister was genuine—a traveler who’d just stopped in the tavern for a drink. He did file the papers before he left Town—that’s how you got this, right, Andrew?”

Sir Andrew nodded. “Some London civil servant mailed it.”

“Now as to whether everything is strictly legal—I can’t be sure.” Drood looked around at each face. “However, I think we have enough to get a positive ruling from Her Majesty if Trowbridge requests one. Can each of you support this action, or are any of you uncomfortable stretching the fine points of legality?”

“It’s not my decision,” Merrick said. “I’ll support Sir Andrew, whatever he decides. Tom is already my ward, whether he’s Sir Andrew’s legal heir or not. It doesn’t matter to me at all.”

“I want this,” Sir Andrew said. He opened his arms wide. “Tom? Can you spare a hug for your grandfather?”

His face pale with shock, Tommy leaned forward and clasped Sir Andrew in an awkward embrace. “You’re really my granddad?”

“I am, son. Can you ever forgive me?”

“Forgive you? For what?”

“For not looking harder. For not finding you before now and bringing you home.”

Tommy shook his head. “You didn’t know. I didn’t know. But if I’d come here, what would have happened to Wink and the little ones?”

“Tommy has a point,” Caroline interjected. “Without him, the others might not have survived—especially Piers.” And while the girls might have lived, Caroline shuddered to think about how. “Perhaps it was fate that brought everyone together at just the right time.”

“Fate and Sir Merrick,” Drood said with a quick twist of his lips.

“Well, Tom,” said Sir Andrew. “Do you think you’ll mind having this great heap to care for? I wish I’d be around to teach you, but I’ve a good steward, and I’m sure Sir Merrick will help you learn to manage an estate.”

Tommy’s blue eyes went huge. “This? This is to be mine someday?” His expression held more panic than joy.

“Sooner rather than later, I’m afraid.” Andrew leaned back in his wheelchair, face strained and white. “But I hope not just yet. I’d like to see this settled first, and maybe have a chance to get to know you, just a little, before I go.”

“Yes, sir.” Tommy sucked in a deep breath and smiled at his grandfather. His voice cracked. “I’d like that, sir. I’d like that very much.”

It was very late that night when Merrick made his way to Caro’s room. She lay propped up in bed, wearing just a satin wrapper, her glossy hair brushed out and tumbling around her shoulders. Her smile as she looked up at him and set aside her book was brilliant.

“The children are settled?” He padded over to the bed, locking her door behind him.

“Yes. It took a while.” She scooted to the side to make room for him on the bed. “They’re all so excited for Tommy, though I think they’re all a little afraid he’s going to become a ‘toff’ and leave them behind.”

“Not likely. I don’t think the others realize that they’re toffs now too, do they?” Easing down beside her felt like the most natural thing in the world. Before he let her answer, he took her lips in a long, sensual kiss. “God, I’ve missed that all day.”

Her arms looped around his neck, she grinned. “Mmm. Me too.”

“No, you were too busy being terrified of the airship.” Teasing her was the most fun he’d had in ages—well, except for making her moan. That was even more fun.

“Well, there’s that. But I have a question, Merrick. How is it that Lord Drood and Sir Andrew didn’t mind my being there? I thought you were forbidden to tell anyone about the Order.”

“There are exceptions. Mainly family members and staff. If you were to leave my employ, I’d be expected to have Lord Drood—a descendant of Merlin, in case you were wondering—come in and cast a spell to alter your memory.” He wasn’t ready to admit he planned to marry her in the near future. She deserved a proper courtship—as soon as this mission was over.

She pulled away from him. “Erase my memories? I’m not sure I like the sound of that.”

“Not erase.” He untied the sash on her wrapper and drew it off her creamy shoulders. “Just…blur a little, for want of a better word. You’d be a little hazy about exactly what it was I do for a living and so on. Besides, I don’t see a problem. You don’t want to leave here, do you?” He ran a row of kisses along her shoulder, inhaling her fresh scent.

“Of course I don’t want to leave. But someday, when the children are grown, I’ll have to.” She’d untied his dressing gown and pushed it off as well, though unlike her, he still had trousers on beneath.

“We’ll see. A world of things can happen between now and then.” He stood to remove his trousers, before lying back down beside her. “You could decide you want to stay.”

“I don’t want to talk about the future,” Caro said, kissing him voraciously. “I just want to enjoy right now.” She reached down and circled his cock with her fingers. With slow precision, she stroked him up and down.

“Right now is going to be over very, very quickly if you don’t stop that.” The strangled sound of his voice might have embarrassed him if it were anyone but Caro.

“Oh, I have faith in your recuperative abilities.” She pushed him on his back and knelt above him. “You’ve proven them rather well over the last few nights.” With that, she began to kiss a line down between his pectoral muscles, past his navel. His shy little virgin had certainly come a long way in just a few sessions.

Perhaps it was time to talk to her about their future, even without a proper courtship. He started to tell her to wait, but when her lips closed around the tip of him, he stopped trying to think or speak at all. While untutored in some things, her instincts were unerring, and Merrick gave himself up to the pleasure offered by her hands and mouth. Just before the end, he gave her one last warning, tugging on her hair to bring her up to him. This time, she obeyed, sliding up his body to kiss him deeply. His own flavor on her lips was nearly as erotic as the way she straddled his hips, lowering herself onto his aching shaft. Her damp folds slid across his heated skin when she began to move.

In the back of his mind, he knew he should stop and don protection. But did it truly matter if they were going to marry soon anyway?

Yes. To Caro, it would. Being illegitimate herself, her sensitivity on the subject was only natural. Besides, when she married him, he wanted it to be by choice, not necessity.

Rolling her onto her back and pulling away may have been the single most heroic thing he’d ever done. It was certainly the most difficult. She whimpered in protest, but sighed and nodded when she saw him reach for a packet from the nightstand drawer. Licking her lips, she watched him put the condom on then held out her arms. Merrick knelt above her and lifted her hips with his hands. Though they hadn’t done this before, she naturally draped her knees over his elbows, opening herself to him. Her fingers clenched around the rails of the bedstead and her eyes fluttered shut while he slid home.

For a few seconds, he just held himself there, feeling the hot clasp of her muscles surrounding him. Then the need grew too great, and he began to move. She was supported by her knees, so the position left him free to use his hands, and he did, bringing her to a shuddering peak. Finally, he let go of his own restraint, buried himself deep in her sheath, and came to his own explosive release.

At some point, he collapsed beside her, rolling them on their sides so they were still connected. How long they lay there, damp and gasping for breath, Merrick couldn’t be sure. He did know he never wanted to leave the warmth—literal and figurative—of her embrace. Idly, he stroked his fingers across her cheek, tucking stray strands of hair behind her pointed little ears.

“Mmm.” She smiled up at him, blinking. “I think I blacked out, just for a second.”

“Le petit mort. It happens sometimes, when the sensations are particularly intense.” He kissed her cheek and the tip of her nose and chuckled. “You’re welcome.”

She muffled her laugh in his shoulder. “Thank you. And thank you for remembering…”

His laughter stopped and he looked deeply into her eyes. “I’ll always take care of you, Caro. As long as there’s life in my body, I’ll never do anything to hurt you.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Merrick. One day we will have to go our separate ways, but you must know, I’ll have no regrets.”

“We won’t, not if you marry me.” Hell, this was not how he’d envisioned proposing.

Her lower lip quivered as she gave him a tender smile. “Such a gallant. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart. This is a moment I’ll treasure for the rest of my days. But you know it’s impossible.”

He was too sated and tired to fight with her now, but he had no intention of giving up. “We shall see about that.” He kissed her again, then left the bed to dispose of the used condom. By the time he returned, she was already asleep, a beatific smile on her face. Setting his mental clock to wake him before dawn, he climbed into bed beside her and doused the lamp. “One of these days, my dear, I’ll be able to stay with you until morning. You just wait and see.”

She didn’t waken, just snuggled back against his chest, into his arms—where she belonged.

May Day was a banner day that year for London—the opening of Prince Albert’s Great Exhibition of the Works of Industry of All Nations, at the sparkling glass-and-iron Crystal Palace in Hyde Park. Merrick had gotten tickets, and to the children’s delight, he and Dorothy accompanied them, including Tommy and his tutor, to the grand opening ceremonies. The children were agog at the idea of setting eyes on not just the Prince Consort, but the Queen herself and possibly even some of the royal children—along with all the exhibits of course.

Thousands of pedestrians jammed into Hyde Park, lining the walks and roads, but the Guards kept a route free so those who had purchased tickets for the ceremonies could pass. Caroline was as wide-eyed as the children at being one of the privileged “few” on the inside of the line of scarlet coats. From her place in the second carriage with Dorothy and the girls, she watched the crowd nearly as avidly as the crowd watched them.

Inside, Merrick led them all to a spot astonishingly close to the red-carpeted dais erected in the middle of the main hall, under a suspended purple canopy. Of some twenty-five hundred watchers, they were perhaps among the nearest two hundred. They stood amid the highest nobility in the land, and Caroline was very grateful for the jade-green walking dress decorated with ivory braid she’d let Dorothy talk her into. Her fashionable bonnet had matching silk ribbons and cream silk roses, making her feel like a princess herself.

Wink had been allowed to wear long skirts with a small hoop and put her hair up, while Tom looked like a perfect gentleman in his new charcoal-colored suit. As usual, Merrick and Dorothy introduced Caroline as a friend of the family, and for the first time, Merrick showed off his wards to society. Tommy blinked when he was introduced as Tom Devere, but in the three days since his visit with Sir Andrew, he seemed to have adapted well to his new circumstances. When the ceremonies themselves began, Merrick popped Piers up onto his shoulders for a better view, while Tommy did the same for Jamie. Finally, with a grumble and a sigh, Mr. Berry unbent far enough to hoist Nell, who weighed next to nothing, after all, onto his own. Caroline and Wink stood on tiptoe as the royal party ascended the platform.

They stood as a group—almost as a family, she thought wistfully—and watched the opening ceremonies as the Prince handed the Queen a copy of the catalogue of the exhibits. Then they mingled while the royal entourage made their own circuit of the Exhibition. Caroline was glad to see the Duke and Duchess of Trowbridge, who’d had a place at the very front of the crowd, and waved cheerfully at the MacKays, who came over to chat. Dorothy’s friend Miss Julian joined them, and soon they were a large, lively group.

“The Queen has granted Sir Andrew’s petition,” the duke said quietly when just Merrick and Caroline could hear. “Young Tom is officially legitimate and heir to the Devere title and estates.”

“That was fast.” Caroline hadn’t known the machinations of government could work that quickly.

“It’s good to have friends in high places.” Merrick smiled. “Thank you, your grace.”

Soon, of course, the royal party returned, the Exhibition was officially opened, and it was time to explore the thousands of items on display. As usual, there was dissension among the children, but Merrick stood firm on the concept of everyone staying together as a group. Gideon MacKay joined them, offering his arm to Caroline, who declined in favor of taking Jamie firmly by the hand. Dorothy, with Miss Julian beside her, took charge of Piers, while Tommy and Wink chattered together, leaving Gideon to chivalrously offer his arm to Nell.

Nell avoided him and instead took the arm of a reluctant Mr. Berry, but she did so with such grave hauteur that even such a stuffed shirt as he couldn’t resist. Merrick eyed the group and wisely caught Jamie’s other hand, then led the way to the first exhibit.

“I was here, yesterday, officially, and checked Lord Babbage’s personal engine,” he whispered to Caroline above Jamie’s coppery head. “I believe even this one has some pieces missing. It’s very possible our villain has compiled a complete set.”

Caroline shuddered. “You need to find him quickly, don’t you?”

Merrick nodded. “Watch for anything suspicious today.”

“I will, I promise.”

Jamie dragged them closer to a display of African masks and weaponry, and they shared a smile at his enthusiasm, just as if they were really his doting parents. Another pang went through Caroline’s heart.

Until Gideon intruded with his constant flirtation. Somehow, as they studied a case full of Chinese sculpture, he managed to switch things around so he walked with Caroline, and Merrick was left with a child on each hand.

“Will you go to the theatre with me tomorrow night?” he whispered into her ear, his breath tickling.

Caroline laughed and swatted his arm before extricating herself from his hold. “No. Now, stop it. I’m here to watch the children, remember?” She rolled her eyes as she picked up Jamie’s hand again. It was hard not to like the persistent young man, though clearly, the children still did not.

“You!”

The single word was shouted with such loathing that Caroline thought at first someone new must have entered the hall—a vagrant perhaps. Then she recognized the voice and dread curdled her stomach. Not here. Not now.

“Excuse me, sir?” Merrick’s voice was cold as ice, and Caroline turned to see her cousin, Viscount Buckley, and his wife, looking down their aristocratic noses at Caroline. Around them, other visitors grew silent, intent on viewing the human spectacle rather than the exhibits.

“I find it difficult to believe that you allow this sordid creature anywhere near your wards.” Victor sniffed. “Let alone bringing her out to such an auspicious gathering. Really, just look at her behavior. She’s clearly as much of a whore as her mother was.”

Several things happened at once.

Tommy pulled back his fist. “You take that back.”

Jamie lunged at Victor’s knees, was caught by Merrick and handed off to Mr. Berry, whose eyes had practically popped out of his shiny bald head.

Dorothy glared daggers at Victor. “Your aunt may have made a critical mistake, Victor Buckman, but at least she wasn’t a supercilious bully like her brother. Clearly, you’re just as much of a braying jackass as your father.”

Caroline winced. Of course Dorothy had known her mother and her uncle. It would have been too much to hope that she hadn’t.

Merrick stepped up to Victor and grabbed him by the shirtfront, lifting the smaller man up onto his toes. Merrick’s cold, menacing voice echoed off the high, glass ceiling. “You will keep your crude remarks to yourself in the presence of the ladies, Buckley. And, should I ever hear you say one more disparaging word about my fiancée, you’ll find yourself facing me at dawn. Is that perfectly clear?”

“F-fiancée?” Victor gurgled, his weasely face turning purple.

Fiancée? Caroline staggered, but was propped up by Tommy and Wink on either side of her, both grinning widely. Oh, he was most certainly going to hear about this ludicrous claim when they got home.

“We hadn’t made the announcement yet.” Merrick dropped Victor and stepped back to wrap his arm around Caroline’s waist and haul her close against his side. “You may be among the first to wish your cousin happy, Buckley.”

Around them, the children burst into excited squeals and all tried to hug Caroline at once. Dorothy’s eyes misted as she embraced Caroline. “Welcome to the family, dear girl.” Even the austere Miss Julian gave her a pat on the shoulder with a suspicious sniffle, while Mr. Berry offered strained felicitations.

“I said you may wish us happy, cousin.” The threat in Merrick’s words rang out clear as a bell. While a viscount outranked a baronet, there was no doubt Merrick was more physically imposing and better connected within government and other circles of power.

“Of course we wish you both the best.” It was Victor’s wife who broke the simmering silence with her patently insincere offering.

Caroline responded in kind. “Thank you, Lady Buckley. I’ll own, it was most unexpected, on my part as well. Sir Merrick has quite swept me off my feet.” And she was going to knock him right off his with an umbrella as soon as they were alone. What on earth could he have been thinking to make such a claim?

Chapter Fourteen

The whole way home, the boys peppered Merrick with questions about his engagement to Caro. The children were clearly thrilled, which would make it all the harder for Caroline to refuse. Good. He knew he’d put her back up with his precipitous announcement, but it was better than having him pound the living hell out of her uncle in the middle of the exhibition, which is what he’d wanted to do. Still, asking her first probably would have been a good idea.

“We haven’t made any specific plans yet,” he informed the inquisitive bunch. “I only just talked her into it.”

“Shall I look for a replacement tutor?” Edwin spoke quietly from his corner of the carriage. “Or will Miss Bristol allow me to continue?” His pointy nose practically quivered in disapproval.

“I’m sure Caroline will want you to continue,” Merrick assured him. “We will need to find a new governess, though. That’s going to be an awkward undertaking.”

Edwin nodded. “If I might suggest, Miss Bristol may have some…connections in that arena, at least one of whom could possibly be willing to work for a former colleague.” Distasteful though that might be, he didn’t add, though he probably wanted to.

“Excellent idea, Edwin.” Merrick glanced at the younger boys on either side of him, who had gone silent, eyes wide with horror at the thought of a new governess. “Though I imagine that even as Lady Hadrian, Caroline will want to remain closely involved in their education.” She was also the only woman he knew who wouldn’t object to taking on a husband already saddled with five young wards. Once they had a child or two of their own, the house would truly be full to overflowing. Oddly, he found he liked that idea very much.

As soon as they were in the house, Caroline sent the children up to the nursery and swept into Merrick’s study, dragging him by the elbow behind her. She hadn’t even bothered to remove her bonnet or gloves.

“What in the world were you thinking, you great, hulking idiot?” Hands on her hips, she tapped one toe impatiently upon the carpet.

“Oh, I don’t know.” Locking the door behind them, he slapped his own gloves down on a chair and tossed his walking stick into the general vicinity of the corner before rounding on her. “Perhaps I was thinking of shutting your obnoxious relative up and ensuring that you have some shred of a reputation left.”

“But marriage? It’s ludicrous. Do you know how much worse my reputation will be after a broken engagement with my employer? I’ll never find work in England again.”

“Caro, just what the bloody hell is so ridiculous about marriage? It’s a common institution. Lots of people find it a perfectly reasonable lifestyle.” Her indignation would have been amusing if it hadn’t been quite such an insult. Was he that unthinkable as a husband?

“Lots of people aren’t a bloody baronet who can trace his ancestry to Camelot and a Roman emperor. Lots of people don’t spend their evenings running around fighting vampyres in the stews of London. Lots of people aren’t rich as bloody Midas.” She stabbed a finger into his chest to punctuate every sentence, then stepped back and crossed her arms over her chest. “Lots of other people aren’t a penniless, part-faery bastard who teaches young children for a living. You’re above my touch, Merrick. Right now, you think we’re compatible, but it isn’t going to last. Eventually you’re going to resent being tied to someone like me, and I—I couldn’t stand that. So this farce has to end. Immediately.”

“Caro.” He took hold of her shoulders and stepped closer, forcing her to look up at him. “You’re the granddaughter of an earl and you were raised a lady. You love children, particularly my motley collection, and you’re willing to risk life and limb to protect them. God, woman, have you thought of how magnificent our own children are going to be?” It was a thought Merrick certainly couldn’t get out of his mind—the image of Caro holding an infant with her fair hair and Merrick’s brown eyes.

Her lips twitched, almost quirking into a smile before she frowned again. “More likely they’d be more terrifying than all five of the others put together.”

Merrick laughed. “Probably true. But in a magnificent sort of way.” She was starting to soften and he wasn’t about to let up. “Look at it this way. My work is dangerous. If I married some frivolous debutante, do you think I’d dare come home filthy or wounded after an assignment? How would she handle that? With you, I’d know the children were in good hands while I was gone, and when I came home, I could actually talk to you about my work.”

“If you came home battered and wounded, I’d scold you until you recovered,” she grumbled. “And what makes you think I’d want to marry someone who could get himself killed any night of the week?”

A small tickle of fear took up residence in his chest. Did she really not want to marry him? “Caro, you’re what—twenty-seven years old? And you were a virgin. You have to at least like me, to have allowed me to be your first lover. Besides, not even you can deny that the passion between us is extraordinary.”

“Mere chemical attraction,” she said with a shrug. But her eyes were wide and her lip trembled. She was more affected than she wanted to let on. “And don’t be ridiculous—of course I like you. So would any woman with eyes and half a brain. That doesn’t make this a good match. I mean marrying the governess? How cliché. You can do better, Merrick.”

“No.” He cupped her face with one hand and brushed the thumb across her full lower lip. “It doesn’t signify anyway. I’ve announced our engagement in public. Word has most certainly gotten back to Her Majesty by now, as well as my superiors. I’m not backing out now, and neither are you. The engagement continues, and let me warn you, Miss Bristol, the engagement will not be a lengthy one. I’m sick of climbing out of your bed in the middle of the night. At least after the wedding we won’t have to sneak around.” He wouldn’t have to use prophylactics either—something else he was looking forward to.

Her eyes squeezed shut, a suspicious glint of moisture on her long lashes. “Victor will go out of his way to hurt us, you know. It would be so much better if I just left London—maybe England altogether.”

“And then who would comfort Jamie after one of his dreams?” He dropped a kiss on her nose. “Who would give Nell confidence or fuss over Piers’s cough?” This time he kissed her cheek. “Who would love them, Caro?” Who would love me? She must, mustn’t she? Surely she wouldn’t have made love to him otherwise. He found he wanted that more than he wanted to breathe.

“You love those children.” He brushed his lips against her forehead. “You know you do. And they love you back. Can you envision any other potential bride even tolerating my wards, let alone raising them alongside our own children? No. And I’ll have it no other way. It’s you, or I remain unmarried. I think there’s a third or fourth cousin to inherit the title and estates.”

Her choked laugh sounded more like a sob. “You make it hard to be noble, Sir Merrick.”

“Then don’t be. Marry me, and be happy instead.” This time he kissed her lips, softly at first, but with increasing fervor when she responded, her mouth softening and opening for him. When he finally broke it off, they were both breathing heavily. Merrick dropped to one knee and took her hands in his so she couldn’t run away. “Caroline Buckman Bristol, will you do me the great honor of becoming my wife?”

Instead of words, she dropped to her knees as well, leaned in and kissed him. “I won’t be an easy wife, Merrick. And I’ll castrate you if you sleep with another woman.”

This time he laughed with pleasure. “I can live with that, as I’ll simply kill any other man who touches you.”

“Then yes. Since you won’t take no for an answer, I’ll marry you, Merrick. And may God help us both.”

“No. It will be the rest of the world who’ll need His assistance. Together, my dear, we’ll be a force of nature.” He pulled her close and sat back on the carpet, dragging her into his lap.

“If we don’t kill each other first.” Her fingers pulled at the knot of his cravat and the buttons of his waistcoat even as they kissed.

Once they had each other naked, he laid her back against the soft rug, propped himself up on his elbows and gazed down into her lovely face as he slid into her welcoming sheath. The sensation of being bare inside her moist heat was almost enough to send him over the top before they’d even begun. “Mine,” he said. He pulled almost all the way out, then shoved back in, all the way to the hilt. “All mine.”

“Yes.” Her fingernails dug into his shoulders and her legs twined around his as she eagerly met every thrust. “All yours. And you are mine.”

“Till death do us part.” Then he began to move in earnest, and his lips claimed hers.

Only moments later, they lay on the rug, dragging in much needed breath and holding hands. The experience had been the single most erotic and explosive of Merrick’s entire life. Right now, he’d swear their hearts were pounding as one.

“The wedding,” he said with as much force as he could muster. “Will be soon.”

She choked out a laugh and replied, “Yes, dear. Whatever you wish.”

Merrick chuckled. “I doubt I’ll ever hear that again.”

“Probably not.”

He kissed her hair, then rolled to his feet and helped her to hers. “And now, we have our family to face. We’ll talk to them at dinner? All of them?” Yes, they’d heard, but since they were family, they deserved a straightforward announcement.

“Our family.” She smiled up at him. “Yes, I do like the sound of that.”

Caroline raced upstairs to wash and change for dinner, her mind in a whirl. Without thinking, she put on her rose-patterned dress and her mother’s pearls. Catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror, she smiled at her reflection. For once, she did feel as pretty and cheerful as a flower. Humming a tune, she went into the nursery to take the children down to dinner.

“Miss Caro, no.” Jamie’s wail pierced the atmosphere of the room and all movement stopped.

“Jamie?” Caro ran over to the boy and crouched down. “Dear, what’s wrong? Is your arm hurting?” His cast had only come off the day before.

He shook his head, tears spilling out over his lashes. “That’s the dress. You can’t wear that. They’ll get you.”

Oh, goodness, she’d forgotten his dream—and if the children were right, it had been a genuinely prophetic one. She gathered him into her arms. “I promise, Jamie, I’m not leaving this house tonight. Your dream was about vampyres in the carriage, right?”

“Y-yes.” He buried his face in her shoulder.

“Well, then, I should be perfectly safe right here in our own dining room, shouldn’t I? Or would you rather I go put on a different gown?” She wouldn’t mind changing if it would ease his mind.

“You’re n-not going anywhere?”

“Promise.” Though she and Merrick had originally planned to visit the MacKays that night, the sudden engagement had caused them to change their minds and stay home with the family.

“Then it’s all right, I guess.” He wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his good jacket, but Caroline handed him a handkerchief before he could use it to blow his nose.

“Then let’s go down to dinner, shall we?” She stood and took him by the hand. “I hear there are to be spice cakes for pudding.” She couldn’t help but wonder if the decision to stay in that evening had in fact saved her and Merrick’s lives.

Jamie seemed certain of it. Mollified, he went along, clutching Caroline’s hand tightly, and the others followed them down the stairs.

Dinner was an exuberant affair. Though the children could barely sit still in their seats, their delight was contagious. Even the starchy Mr. Berry smiled now and again. Merrick was adamant that the wedding be held within the month, so Dorothy took out a pencil and notebook right at the dinner table to begin taking notes, while Miss Julian sat beside her, muttering suggestions.

By the time she’d taken the children upstairs and put them to bed, Caroline’s head was spinning, trying to sort fancy from reality. All she knew for certain though, was when Merrick asked her for something, she couldn’t tell him no. And she wanted this, so very, very badly. She only wished he’d spoken of love, instead of friendship, compatibility and desire.

Oh well. She would simply have to love enough for both of them. She didn’t think that was likely to be difficult.

It seemed strange to get up the following morning and carry on in a normal fashion, as if the world hadn’t shifted on its axis. Caroline managed, though, eating breakfast in the nursery with a smile on her face. While the children were still thrilled, they’d also had time to consider that Caroline and Merrick’s marriage would mean some changes in the household—namely, the installation of a new governess—or two. Caroline was considering hiring separate ones for the girls and the boys, which might make things easier to manage.

The family didn’t attend church as a rule, and there were no lessons on Sunday, so the children soon grew restless and bored. Somehow, Caroline managed to get them through a relatively civilized luncheon. They ate alone, in the nursery, as Merrick had left the house that morning to consult with his friend from Scotland Yard, Inspector Dugan. Dorothy was off making wedding arrangements, and even Tommy and Mr. Berry were away, giving the house an empty feel, even though there were still a dozen or so servants on the premises. As it was a cool, sunny day, Caro found herself looking forward to their walk in the park as much as the children were.

To her surprise, though, Wink requested to stay behind.

“George needs some repairs,” the girl said. “I think he leaned on your leg last evening.”

Caroline winced. Come to think of it, the clockwork dog was missing today. “I’m so sorry, sweeting. I’ll try harder to avoid touching him.”

“It’s all right, miss. It’s a simple repair. I’ll be done by the time you’re home from the park.”

“Well, we won’t be long. I’ll leave Johnson and Becky with you.” Caroline hated to leave any of the children behind, but Wink really should be fine in a houseful of devoted servants.

Wink licked her lips, her eyes darting nervously. “Is Constable Liam here?”

Ah, so that’s what this is about. While a schoolgirl infatuation was natural, it couldn’t be encouraged to go too far. In Wapping, a girl of fifteen was considered of marriageable age, but not in Mayfair, and not likely to the son of an earl, albeit an Irish one. “Constable McCullough will be going with us, I believe. He’s the only one who can outrun Jamie if he decides to bolt.” The young policeman was also gifted. Caroline was sure of it, though she had yet to determine just how.

“True.” With a resigned sigh, Wink ran to her room to change into her coveralls while the others got their hats.

The long walk in Green Park did much to blow the cobwebs from Caroline’s mind. Despite her earlier misgivings about splitting their forces, there were no incidents in the park to even hint at any attacks. They were all in such high spirits that she allowed the children and Constable Liam McCullough race ahead the last block or so, to wait panting at the door for Caroline and Sally.

“Thinking ye’ll be needing a lady’s maid, miss, once you’ve married the master. I’ve another sister, you know. She’s seventeen, ready to go into service. Our Nan is even better with a needle than Becky, and a wizard at doing hair.”

Lord, yet another thing she hadn’t considered. “I thought Becky was only seventeen. Are they twins?”

“Nah, Beck turned eighteen last week. Irish twins—born ten months apart.”

“Send her around, Sally.” Soon, it seemed, they’d be employing half of London—and all of Sally’s family.

It was odd that no one had answered the door yet, but Caroline rang the bell again when she stepped up onto the porch. There was no answer. Dread dragged icy fingers down the length of her spine. Something was very, very wrong.

“Wait out on the curb,” Constable McCullough—Liam—ordered. “I’ll go around the back and see if anyone’s still here.”

Caroline and Sally, each held tightly to one of the boys, with Nell pinned between them. These weren’t helpless waifs used to being protected, but tough fighters in their own right. That didn’t stop Caroline from keeping a firm grip on Piers’s shoulders. It was high time someone took care of them.

A few minutes later the front door opened and Liam stood on the stoop, his expression grim. “There were intruders, but they’ve gone.”

“What’s wrong?” This time Caroline ran with the others and was only a few steps behind Liam and the boys. “Where is everyone?”

“That’s the trouble.” Liam shut the front door behind them after they were all inside. “The servants are belowstairs, most of them tied up and unconscious. Tom and his tutor are in the ballroom, likewise incapacitated, but both are alive. Becky and Johnson are in the nursery.” Liam seemed to be retying his cravat as they walked, though that made no sense to Caroline. “I couldn’t untie them with paws instead of hands.”

Caroline had no idea what he meant, but this wasn’t the time to ask.

“And Wink? Is she in the nursery as well?” She’d been asking Merrick to assign the girl a separate space for her work with machines, but they hadn’t had time to sort one out yet.

“Wink?” Liam’s dark complexion paled. “No. I’d assumed she was with Miss Hadrian. Her carriage is gone, as is Sir Merrick’s.”

Caroline shook her head. “Wink stayed home to work on George.”

Liam swore viciously. “George is in the schoolroom, in pieces. There’s no sign of Wink.”

Caroline was right behind him as they ran up the stairs, Sally and the children stampeding in their wake.

The nursery was a shambles. Clearly, Wink, Becky and Johnson had put up one hell of a fight. Equally clearly, they’d been overpowered. Becky and Johnson were bound, hands and feet, lying in the center of the floor, and of Wink there was no sign at all. George lay on the floor, his head on Wink’s worktable, so he hadn’t been able to help. Damn it.

Johnson blinked up at Caroline as she pulled a sharp knife from a decorative sheath on her belt—a gift from Merrick she’d taken to carrying since the last attack. She cut his bonds while Liam did the same for Becky, who was still unconscious and sported a vicious bruise on her cheek.

“Miss Caro,” Johnson whispered. “Sorry. Too many of them. And they had this vapor…made us dizzy.”

“Did you get a good look at any of them, man?” Liam helped the other man up and into a chair.

“They wore masks to filter out the gas.” Johnson accepted a glass of water from Nell while Caroline checked Becky for further injuries. Other than the blow to the head, she seemed fine, and even began coming around. “Completely hid their faces.”

“Miss Wink,” she gasped. “Came for her they did. Pointed right at her as soon as they stormed in the room.”

Wink had been the target? This was more dreadful than Caroline had imagined. They needed Merrick.

“I’m going downstairs to check on the others.” Liam stood and motioned to Caroline. “Sally, you and the children stay here and see to your sister. Johnson, whenever you think you’re able, come find us.”

“I’m able now.” With only a slight wobble, the burly footman stood. He wrenched the dangling leg off an overturned table and nodded to Liam. “Let’s go.”

Next they ran to the ballroom, where Berry and Tommy had clearly been practicing fencing. While Berry was still unconscious, Tommy was awake and had nearly struggled out of his bonds.

“Gideon-sodding-MacKay,” he spat as soon as Caroline removed the gag from his mouth. The string of profanity that followed would have done a veteran sailor proud.

Caroline blinked, her lower jaw hanging slack. “Gideon?” Perhaps Tommy’s head had been struck harder than he seemed to think. Gideon MacKay was a harmless flirt. Certainly he hadn’t been pleased about her engagement to Merrick, but that would give him no reason to target Wink.

“It’s him. Blast it all, why didn’t we see that?” Liam untied Mr. Berry, checking his pulse and pupils. “This one will be all right. Sooner or later.”

“We both got in a few blows.” Tommy gestured at the bloody tips of the epees lying on the floor a few yards away. “That’s how I know it was Bloody Bastard MacKay. Pricked him in the neck and he took that funny mask off.”

“Did they use gas in here?” Liam shook Mr. Berry, who moaned without opening his eyes.

“Aye.” Tommy stood and walked over to a chair on the edge of the room. He scrabbled underneath then pulled out a metal sphere, roughly the size of a grapefruit, with buttons pointing in several different directions and holes all around like a tea strainer, but on a larger scale. “They threw these at the ground and then the gas came out. Made us all woozy-like.”

Liam took the object and sniffed it, then shook it to listen to the rattle of glass. “Ether, a lot of it, in a glass vial. The buttons must have broken the glass, releasing the vapor.”

“This was a coordinated attack to kidnap Wink,” Caroline said. “Johnson, are you well enough to take a horse and ride to Scotland Yard for Sir Merrick?”

“Yes, ma’am.” His straight stature and fierce expression marked the truth of his words.

“Tell him to meet Constable McCullough and myself outside Gideon MacKay’s townhouse. Merrick had wondered, when we were there, why all the basement windows had been bricked up. MacKay must be the one in collusion with the vampyres.”

“Aye,” Tommy kicked his flimsy epee away from him in disgust. “Let me go get my sword and crossbow.”

Caroline wanted to object, but Liam laid a hand on his shoulder. “He knows what he’s doing. I’d rather take him than you.”

“They have my daughter, Constable.” Yes, in her heart, Caroline already considered these children hers. “Don’t even try to stop me.”

Tommy ran up the stairs, returning almost immediately in his regular shoes and jacket, with Sally and Becky, and the children behind him.

“We’ll untie everyone else,” Sally said, a sturdy walking stick in one hand and a knife in the other. “You go get our girl back, miss.”

“I brought Wink’s weapons for you,” Tommy said. “They’re lighter, for a girl.”

“Good enough. Is there a carriage left in the mews?”

Liam shook his head. “Just an old one and the second-string horses. We’ll get there faster in a hack.”

After wrapping the weapons in a cloak, they ran to St. James Square to catch a hackney, then Liam bribed the driver heavily to spring the horses as much as possible, considering it was London in the middle of the afternoon.

The ten minutes it took them to get to Gideon’s small, semi-detached townhouse seemed like hours. Liam gave Tommy a rundown of the layout, having been there for the same dinner party as Caroline. They discussed entrances and exits, and the probability that there were more of the hired thugs waiting, along with the possibility of vampyres.

“I’m going to go in as a wolf. I’ll be more effective that way. Miss Bristol, if you’d mind closing your eyes while I change…” Liam’s voice was blunt and unapologetic as he began to strip off his coat and hat. “If there’s activity on the first floor, I’ll break through a window, giving me the element of surprise. Otherwise, Tommy can sneak me in the back door, while you wait out front for Sir Merrick and Johnson.”

Caroline shook her head. “I intend to walk in through the front door. If I ring the bell, it will draw the servants to the front, clearing the way for the two of you.”

Liam continued systematically undressing, so she pointedly turned to look out the cab window. “A werewolf, Mr. McCullough? How fascinating.” Well, why not? She’d begun to think nothing could surprise her anymore—well, not when it came to supernatural abilities, anyway. She didn’t think she’d ever understand Merrick’s behavior.

“Tom, hide Constable McCullough’s clothing in the garden on the way in. He may need them later.” The hack rolled to a stop directly in front of Gideon’s house, and Caroline allowed the driver to help her out the door facing the house, while Tommy let Liam out the other side. Caroline had tucked Wink’s silvered sword inside the waistband of her skirt, between the outer layer and her heavy petticoat.

There were three soft sounds and Caroline turned to see the three younger children drop from the back of the hackney. Nell wore trousers, and even little Jamie was armed. “You hopped on the cab and followed us here?”

They all nodded. Caroline sighed and looked to Tommy.

The older boy immediately assumed the mantle of command. “Jamie, into the shrubs in front. Don’t let anyone come in the front without our knowing about it, and update Sir Merrick when he arrives. Piers, you stick with Miss Caro, and watch her back, after you pick the front lock if you need to. Nell, you’re on watch in the back garden. Got it?”

All three children nodded, and as Caroline made her way to the front door, a proper lady with a child making an afternoon call, Jamie, Nell and Tommy seemed to disappear from her view, fading into the bushes and around the corners like they were no more than part of the scenery.

She wasn’t the least bit surprised when no one answered their ring. She stood patiently, blocking Piers from view of the street as he did something to the lock with a long sliver of metal. The latch popped open and Piers peeked inside before slipping ahead of Caroline into the foyer.

“Nobody up here,” he murmured, his low tone carrying far less than a whisper would. Caroline followed him in the door and quickly closed it behind her.

Caroline nodded. Her hearing was excellent, and she couldn’t detect a trace of anyone nearby. There was something, though… “Do you feel a rumbling beneath our feet?” Of course—the bricked-up basement windows.

Piers shook his head. “But Tommy might. He can see and hear things the rest of us can’t.”

Like Merrick. Caroline pulled out Wink’s sword and held it in one hand while she clutched a sturdy oak walking stick in the other. Tommy had sharpened the tip into a point for her on the way here, giving her a stout wooden stake. Liam’s pistol was in her pocket. “Let’s find the steps to the cellar. Probably through the kitchen.” Please God, let Wink be here and let them not have hurt her.

In the rear of the house, they met up with Tommy and Liam, who appeared to be a very large black and gray wolf, with intelligent golden-brown eyes. With nothing but motions of his big head, he managed to convey that he would descend first, once Piers had picked the heavy padlock on the cellar door.

“Me next,” said Tommy, with an authority that would serve him well later in life as a gentleman landowner. “You wait here. Piers, run and let Nell know it’s the basement.”

Caroline nodded, respecting his authority when it came to this sort of thing, even while she longed to be the one protecting the children instead of the other way around. Piers flitted back to the front door. Tommy slipped down into the darkness with uncanny silence, while Caroline waited.

Piers returned in just a few seconds from the front door at about the same time as Tommy crept back up the stairs.

“They’ve got her working on the machine—chained to it. She’s not hurt bad, but there are a lot of men and vampyres down there.”

“And we can’t let them finish that formula,” Caroline said. “How many men? How many vampyres?”

“I counted at least six of each. Maybe more behind the wall. Gideon’s down there all right, ordering Wink about, but I don’t think he’s the one in charge. There’s someone I couldn’t see, to whom Gideon keeps looking.”

“Tommy, should we go now, or wait for Sir Merrick?” Again, she had to trust his expertise.

“Now. Stuff was starting to drip from the machine. I think the formula is almost done.”

“Very well. Piers, take this. I assume you know how to use it.” She handed him Wink’s sword and pulled out the police revolver. Biting her lip, she looked from one boy to the other. “And please, be careful. I love you both. And the others. Tell them that, if something should happen to me.”

“We love you too, mum.” Piers gave her a quick hug about the waist with the arm that wasn’t holding a sword, while Tommy just smiled and nodded.

Then his smile vanished. Screams, snarls and barking erupted from the basement, along with breaking glass. Liam had begun the battle. Tommy tipped his head. “Let’s go.”

Chapter Fifteen

Merrick had to wrestle to retain the contents of his stomach as the police wagon raced through the London streets. Not only had the bastards taken Wink—his little girl, damn it, but his fiancée and other children had gone racing to her rescue. He couldn’t lose them—none of them. He realized now that he was in love with Caro, deeply and forever, but he’d also come to love each and every one of the children. They were his family now, and it was up to him to protect them.

The wagon reached Gideon’s townhouse just in time for Merrick to see Jamie peek in the front door. The boy turned to watch Merrick and Johnson leap from the wagon and run toward the stoop, followed by Inspector Dugan and a half-dozen uniformed officers.

Jamie bit his lip. “Something’s going on. I just heard the fight begin. In the basement.”

Merrick didn’t take time to ask any questions, just ran toward the back of the house, where he could hear the sounds of commotion—including the sharp report of gunshots. The door to the cellar stairs stood open, and Merrick dashed down them three at a time, sword cane in one hand, pistol in the other. Johnson and Dugan clattered right behind him.

Utter chaos met his eyes, though he could tell the battle had barely begun. Wink was chained to a working Babbage engine, which was connected to a mixing crucible that steadily dripped a green fluid into a glass beaker. In front of her, a large wolf fought off two vampyres, while another lay savaged at its feet. Tommy had placed himself near the far wall, his blade swirling and Piers braced at his back. Caroline, at the base of the stairs, threw down an empty pistol and brandished a sharpened stake as two of the undead closed in on her. Several bleeding human thugs lay on the ground around the room, attesting to her accuracy with the pistol.

Merrick stepped up to her and shot the nearest vampyre in the head, while she let the other use its own momentum to impale itself on her stake. While she didn’t pierce the heart, she did slow it down enough to allow Merrick to finish off the one he’d shot and stab the other with his ebony swordstick. Two more taken care of.

Johnson was holding his own with a revolver, having made his way to the boys. Johnson shot the vampyres, and Piers or Jamie removed their heads. Good system.

Of course some of the hired killers had guns too. Merrick dodged a bullet and pushed Caro out of the way of another. His eyes were on Gideon MacKay, who stood behind his machine, directing operations. The bastard had a gun pointed at Wink and was forcing her to continue tinkering with the machine. “It needs to go faster. Make it work.”

The police arrived, turning the fracas into a more equal match. This was Dugan’s hand-picked team, all familiar with fighting vampyres. While the officers and Liam began to systematically lay waste to the horde of undead, Merrick inched toward Wink and the machine, tugging on Caro’s sleeve to make sure she understood and moved with him. As they fought their way closer, Merrick heard the crack of another shot, just before Caro stumbled and fell.

“No!” His roar shook the rafters. Around him, the battle continued as one of Dugan’s men fell, blood fountaining from where the vampyre had torn out his throat. Merrick shot that vampyre with the bulk of his attention fixed on Caro.

“Keep going. I’m fine.” She used one foot to push Merrick toward Wink and crawled behind a stack of crates in the corner. “It’s just my arm.”

Sure enough, the bloodstain on her dress was high on her left arm, not quite to the shoulder. Choosing between Wink and Caro was liable to break his heart, but then a pair of officers took up a position in front of Caro, so Merrick nodded and continued toward his ward—oh, hell, if they were about to die, he could be honest with himself—toward his daughter.

“Hurry,” a voice called from behind the Babbage engine. “The formula is almost finished.”

More voices joined the fray. Edwin Berry. Mountjoy? Debbins? Had all Merrick’s staff come to help? He vowed to give each of them a healthy raise in salary for their loyalty.

“Yes, my lord.” Gideon turned to Wink. “Faster, girl, if you want to live.”

Wink picked up the nearest tool, a wrench, and hurled it with lethal accuracy at Gideon. Only the swift reflexes of a near-Knight enabled him to dodge the missile.

“Just a little more,” the voice urged. Merrick recognized it and his stomach turned. Now though, there was something wrong with Blackthorne’s voice. Merrick slipped around the machine and took a good look at the man he’d known for the whole of his life.

Vampyre. Son of a bitch. Blackthorne had been turned. No wonder there’d been a leak in the organization. Francis Gavin stood by his father, grinning, a pistol clenched in his chubby hand.

Gideon gave Merrick a calculating smile. “That’s right, Hadrian. In the new regime, we’ll have the power, and people like you and my brother will be little more than lackeys. As soon as the formula is finished, I’ll join my lord in eternal life.”

“You’re mad, MacKay. You think you’ll ever be anything but another slave in Blackthorne’s army?” Merrick shot a vampyre who’d come up behind him, then whirled as Gideon lunged, slicing open several inches of Merrick’s thigh.

Wink took advantage of Gideon’s distraction by smashing the Babbage engine with a hammer, but though she damaged the engine, the codes had apparently already been transmitted to the mixing apparatus. The liquid continued to drip at a steady pace.

His leg burned, but Merrick whirled and cracked Gideon across the head with the butt of his pistol. He wanted to keep the man alive to stand trial, if at all possible. Gideon staggered back and Francis shot wide, just before Lord Blackthorne himself lunged at Merrick.

Blackthorne was the most powerful undead Merrick had ever fought. No longer ravaged by injury or age, he combined the power of a Knight with that of the vampyre. Merrick’s counterattack was confined by the narrow space behind the machine and hampered by blood loss and pain. He struggled to fend off the turned Knight. Gavin reloaded, then fell to a shot from one of the officers. Thank God one enemy was down, but so was Merrick.

When he fell to one knee, he knew he’d lost. Then a shot rang out and Blackthorne’s head exploded against the wall. Merrick stabbed him as he fell, piercing the heart. The earl crumbled into a moldering heap, letting Merrick know he’d been turned for quite some time.

The sounds of battle echoed in his ears and the world swam in and out of blackness until Gideon’s laugh focused Merrick’s attention. Gideon stood next to the beaker, a maniacal look on his face. He held the bloody stump of a vampyre’s arm in his hand and had clearly sucked the blood from it—rivulets of reddish-black fluid ran down his face. The liquid was falling faster into the beaker now, and Merrick knew they had to destroy the machine itself.

Gideon picked up the beaker to drink, but Wink threw another tool, knocking it to the floor where it shattered. Gideon was already beginning to turn—his face contorted and his teeth elongated as he rushed at Wink.

Liam was there first, taking out Gideon in a flying leap. The werewolf savagely dug his teeth into the neck of the budding vampyre and spat out the flesh.

Another vampyre took his place, a second beaker at the ready. “Wink, the machine,” Merrick called, struggling to stay conscious.

“I’ve got it.” Caroline’s beloved voice came from behind Merrick as she moved around him. “Don’t you dare die on me, my love.” She approached the crucible, stripped off her glove with her teeth, and laid her hand on the center of the apparatus.

Gears ground to a halt and glass tubing shattered, spraying noxious chemicals in all directions. There was a small explosion, and then a fire began, rapidly consuming parts of the now broken machine. “Everybody out,” Merrick called. He doubted he could make it himself, trapped behind the wreckage as he was.

“That includes you.” Caroline was there, along with a naked but seemingly whole Liam. The werewolf’s superior strength enabled him to get Merrick to the stairs as the fire continued to grow. Tommy and Piers ran ahead up into the sunlit kitchen, while Johnson carried Wink, a chain still dragging from her ankle. One of the human thugs ran for it too, but Merrick didn’t care. These were mere hirelings. The heart of the plot had been destroyed with Blackthorne and Gideon. He let Liam half carry him up into the kitchen, then out to the garden.

Once outside, Merrick collapsed on the ground while Caroline slumped beside him, her bodice showing that she’d lost a good deal of blood herself. Liam quickly dressed. The children clustered around Merrick and Caroline, hugging and sniffling, even as Mountjoy and Johnson applied field bandages. None of the children were hurt beyond a bruise or scratch, thank goodness.

Merrick wrapped one arm around Caroline and one around Wink, while Nell and Jamie fought for space on Caro’s lap. Piers leaned against Caro’s back while Tommy stood guard, one hand on Merrick’s shoulder. The servants clustered around, all still brandishing makeshift weapons.

Dugan sent a man for the fire brigade, mostly to ensure the safety of neighboring houses. The fire would destroy the remains of the vampyres, as well as the machine and the punch cards. Merrick sent Debbins to fetch Lord Trowbridge. Once that was done, he muttered, “I love you,” to Caroline, and allowed himself to pass out.

It was the next day before Caroline saw Merrick again. His wound had been sewn and was healing well, as was her own, or so she’d been told. Dorothy, the children and the servants ran messages back and forth between their bedrooms, but neither was allowed out of bed to visit the other, until finally, some twenty-four hours after the battle, Caroline snuck out when Mrs. Granger’s back was turned. Clad only in her nightdress, she slipped down the corridor to Merrick’s bedroom. It was past time she saw him with her own two eyes.

To her delight, Merrick was sitting up in his bed, reading the newspaper when she entered his room. His smile when he saw her was slow and sensual. He flung the newspaper aside and patted the bed beside him. “God, it’s good to see you.”

“I told you I’d scold you until you were well,” she said. It still hurt to move, but not as badly as people seemed to think it should. Merrick held her good arm to help her climb up into the bed.

Then she was there, her face crushed against his warm, solid chest. He held her cautiously, careful of her sling, and she checked to see that she was up against his undamaged leg.

“Trowbridge has been and gone,” Merrick told her. She snuggled into his side as closely as their injuries would allow. “Gideon was one of the owners of Arcanum, while Blackthorne was the majority stockholder. It was the base for their illicit activities. They’ve shut it down and arrested their other partners as well.”

“Good. I’m glad that place is no longer open.” She leaned her head on his shoulder.

He peppered the top of her head with kisses. “You are never to put yourself in danger like that again. Do you hear me, Caro? My heart can’t take it.”

“Merrick, to protect you and our children, I’d walk into Hell itself. We’re both alive, and none of them are hurt. That’s all I care about.”

“You’re right. But Caro—I love you. I had no idea how much until you were there, at risk. I can’t stand the thought of anything happening to you.” His voice cracked, while Caroline felt tears well up in her eyes.

“I love you, Merrick. So very, very much.” She squeezed her one arm around his chest. “Now you know how I’ll feel every time you’re off on an assignment.”

“I’m sorry, dearest.” He kissed her forehead. “I…I’d offer to retire, but…they need me. Especially now.”

“I know.” She looked up at him, knowing her heart was in her eyes. “I’d never try to change you, my love. Being a Knight is who you are, the man I fell in love with. I’ll worry, of course, but I’ll always be here to hold you when you come home.”

“I’ve been thinking, Caro. I’d like to adopt Wink, Piers, Nell and Jamie. Tommy, too, but he has an inheritance to consider.” Merrick’s thoughtful tone was so full of love, Caroline couldn’t help but smile.

“I think Tommy will understand that we love him too, and don’t consider him any less our own.” She leaned up and kissed his chin. “I’d like that very much. That way, when more children come along, they won’t feel displaced, not if they know they’re permanently ours.”

“Good. I already asked my solicitor to draw up the papers, when he delivered our marriage license, earlier this morning.”

A little thrill went through her at the mention of the license. “Now you just have to mend in time for the wedding,” she reminded him. “I imagine the poor man was shocked to find us both confined to our beds.”

“Dorothy and Trowbridge concocted a carriage accident.” Merrick chuckled. “I think Debbins even smashed up my coach with a sledge hammer to add verisimilitude.”

“We’re lucky to have such loyal friends in our household.” Caro yawned and snuggled close. While her wound was healing well, she still tired easily due to loss of blood, and she imagined Merrick did as well.

“Mm-hmm.” He snored softly into her ear and she smiled, letting herself drift off, comfortable for the first time since the fight, now that she was in his arms.

Before she had completely fallen asleep, she heard the door open.

“Should we move her back to her bed, miss?” That was Edwin Berry’s voice. The stuffy tutor didn’t even sound disapproving.

“No, Edwin, I think they’ll both mend better just as they are.” Dorothy’s soft chuckle accompanied the click of the closing door.

Epilogue

The wedding did end up being pushed into the next month—barely. June was only hours old when Merrick and Caroline said their vows. Lady Trowbridge had offered her garden for the ceremony and her ballroom for the wedding breakfast. If both bride and groom still sported small bandages under their clothing, none of the guests could tell. Caroline smiled at her groom, who ate heartily while chatting with Lady Trowbridge on his left. He’d proven over the last several nights that he was more than sufficiently healed for their honeymoon.

Honeymoon. She couldn’t wait to see Hadrian Hall, her new home in Northumberland. Caroline and Merrick were to travel up alone, while Dorothy would follow with the children in a week. That was as long as Caroline and Merrick were willing to be without them. Edwin Berry would be with them of course, along with the governesses, a pair of middle-aged twin sisters Dorothy and Caroline had met at the library. Since the two of them could communicate without speech, they had no difficulty adapting to the various gifts among the Hadrian children. The name was official, now that the adoption had been finalized only moments after the wedding.

“These arrived for the happy couple.” Lord Trowbridge handed Caroline three folded telegrams. Caroline passed them to Merrick, who popped the seal on the first and opened it, holding it so Caroline could read it as well.

“Sir Andrew sends his regards,” Caroline told the onlookers. “How very thoughtful.” Tommy’s grandfather was failing, but the two had at least had a chance to know one another due to frequent visits over the last few weeks.

Next came a message from the MacKay family. Caroline knew Merrick still felt guilty about Gideon’s death, even though Sir William had assured him the family bore no grudge. Sir William and Lady MacKay had, though, retired to their home in Scotland to mourn their youngest son.

Merrick swallowed hard, set that one aside and opened the third.

Caroline blinked. “Merrick, is that a royal seal?”

“It is. The Queen sends her regards.”

Caroline’s mouth opened and closed. Heavens, this would go a long, long way to raise her standing in society, which was still a bit shaky thanks to cousin Victor’s verbal poison.

“And we’ve been given a present—or so it seems.” He drew in a deep breath and chuckled. “You’ve not had time to get used to being Lady Hadrian. Do you think you could handle Lady Northland instead?”

“A barony? Merrick, truly?”

Lord Trowbridge coughed beside her. “I believe it’s to do with Merrick’s increased role in the Order,” he murmured low enough so only Caroline and Merrick could hear him. “And in thanks for that last mission of course. Welcome to the peerage, Lord and Lady Northland.”

Caroline blinked back tears and looked down the table to the smiling faces of the children, Dorothy and Miss Julian, Liam, Inspector Dugan, and so many others she’d come to care for in the past two months. Surely, that was reward enough. A title was mere icing.

Merrick squeezed her hand. “Hold your head high, my lady. We’ll knock society on its ear.”

She grinned at him, this man who knew her so well. Mimicking the children’s now-lost Cockney cant, she teased, “Aye, guv, that we will.”

About the Author

Cindy Spencer Pape is an avid reader of romance, fantasy, mystery, and even more romance. According to The Romance Studio, her plots are “full of twists and turns that keep the reader poised at the edge of their seat.”Joyfully Reviewed said her “colorful characters and plot building surprises kept me spellbound,” and RT Book Reviews says her “characters are appealing, and passionate sex leads to a satisfying romance.”

Cindy firmly believes in happily-ever-after. Married for more than twenty years to her own, sometimes-kilted, hero, she lives in southern Michigan with him and two teenage sons, along with an ever-changing menagerie of pets. Cindy has been, among other things, a banker, a teacher and an elected politician, but mostly an environmental educator, though now she is lucky enough to write full-time. Her degrees in zoology and animal behavior almost help her comprehend the three male humans who share her household.

Cindy loves to hear from readers. To contact her, or for more about Cindy and her books, you can find her on her website, www.cindyspencerpape.com, or her blog, www.cindyspencerpape.blogspot.com.

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ISBN: 978-1-4268-9128-1

Copyright © 2011 by Cindy Spencer Pape

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